


A Desperate Journey and What Came Of It

by IdaArmindaMoss, RKMacBride



Series: Let Him That Stole Steal No More [6]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones, Laredo
Genre: Christian content, Episode Related, Gen, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdaArmindaMoss/pseuds/IdaArmindaMoss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RKMacBride/pseuds/RKMacBride
Summary: Hearing that Kid Curry's betrothed is seriously ill, the boys are faced with the necessity of travelling over 700 miles in winter conditions, much of the distance in regions not served by a railroad. to get from north-western Texas to Telluride, Colorado.  When they are warned that someone in Telluride knows their real names, Heyes thinks they might be riding into a trap.  Should he go with his partner and risk arrest, or try to stop him?  And what about his own lady?
Series: Let Him That Stole Steal No More [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244081
Comments: 17
Kudos: 19





	1. Richard Bancroft Receives a Severe Shock

**Author's Note:**

> Casting:  
> Pete Duel as Hannibal Heyes  
> Ben Murphy as Kid Curry  
> Jessica Stroup as Paula Wellington  
> Peter Brown as Chad Cooper  
> Richard Long as Richard Bancroft, Counsellor-at-Law  
> Gregory Peck as the Revd. David Austin  
> Molly C. Quinn as Molly Quinn, waitress at the Rose
> 
> Some chronological liberties have been taken with the availability of railroad transportion in New Mexico and Colorado. These instances are foot-noted.
> 
> English spelling and hyphenation conventions follow those in use at the time of the story, as far as possible. Many features which we now think of as typically American did not actually come into common use until after the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt.

**Miss O’More’s house, Telluride, Colorado, December 26th, 1881**

Having helped to convey Miss O’More to her house and seen her carried in and put to bed, after she had suddenly collapsed in the kitchen of the Irish Rose, Richard Bancroft, her man of business, paused in the front parlor, thinking rapidly. The doctor had already been sent for, though it might be a while before he arrived, what with the number of people in the town who were ill. The best thing to do for Miss O’More if, as he suspected, the doctor pronounced it to be another severe case of the grippe—or influenza, to call it by its newer name—would be to have her moved to his home so that he and Hannah could look after her properly. She would need constant nursing until the worst of the illness was past. He sat down at Lillian’s desk and dashed off a quick note to his wife, warning her to make preparations. Tommy, the deaf boy who helped at the Irish Rose, was waiting to run errands or carry messages, and would take it there directly.

_What else must be done? Well, if I knew how to reach Thaddeus Jones, he certainly has a right to know. Especially since they were betrothed at the end of the summer_. Struck by a sudden thought, he turned back to the desk. He knew where Lillian kept the key, but rather to his surprise, the slanted front was only latched at the top with a thumb latch, not locked. Since she was in the habit of corresponding with the young man on a regular basis, it was entirely possible that a letter of his or an outgoing letter of hers, from which he could discover an address, would be found in the desk.

He opened the front panel, letting it lie flat, suspended by its leather supports. Here was a piece of paper in Lillian’s handwriting—not a letter, but something else. He picked it up. Mrs. Jedidiah Curry, it said. The name was written out several times. _Jedidiah Curry_ — _that must be Jones’s real name. Well, I always knew it couldn’t possibly be Jones. The sheriff and I discussed that this past summer_ — _that maybe Jones and his partner were trying to escape an unwanted reputation, possibly as hired guns. He said as long as they behaved themselves here in town, they were welcome to use whatever names they pleased. And they’ve certainly been quiet and law-abiding, the two times they’ve been here_. 

Under that piece of paper was what appeared to be a half-finished letter, which started off, unsurprisingly enough, ‘Dear Jed’. Still no sign of an address. He picked up the letter to see if an envelope was underneath it. While he did so, his eyes rested on the body of the letter—private, he knew, but as an attorney, he had found years ago that it was impossible to keep himself from reading anything that came in his way. He scanned the writing absently, intending to put the paper aside and continue his search for an envelope or something else with an address.

Suddenly Bancroft froze, unable for a moment to remember to breathe. Halfway down the page, he had seen a name. Just one word: Heyes. Not a common name, especially not spelled the English way, with two E’s. But without a given name in front of it, it meant nothing. He scolded himself for being an alarmist. Certainly it didn’t mean what he was thinking—that the only time in the past five years he had seen that name was in sensationalised newspaper accounts of the exploits of that well-known pair of Wyoming bank and train robbers, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. _Curry. No, that couldn’t be_. No longer concerned with the ethics of violating Miss O’More’s private correspondence, he began to read the letter in earnest, looking for another clue, some more information, anything that would disprove what he suspected.

Instead, he ran across another section. ‘Give Heyes and Paula my love, and tell Paula that I’ve managed to acquire the evidence we needed for that one missing night in May 1880 that you told me about. I have an affidavit from the hotel clerk, which fills in all the gaps for that month.’ _That indicates that Joshua Smith, who is betrothed to Miss Paula Wellington, is identical with Heyes. Joshua Smith, who is inseparable from his partner Thaddeus Jones, whose real name is Jedidiah Curry_.

Richard Bancroft tries to decide what to do

Richard Bancroft sat down rather suddenly in the desk chair. _So it’s true. And Lillian knows_ — _Lillian O’More. Whatever they’re up to, she is involved, at least to the extent of protecting them._ From this lower position, he was able to see two more items: one a white envelope with ‘Thaddeus Jones’ written across it in the recipient’s position, followed by an address, and the other a fat manila envelope stuffed with what appeared to be clippings from the _Rocky Mountain News_. He picked up the white envelope and found himself staring in disbelief at the address, which was ‘c/o Captain Edward Parmalee, Texas Rangers, Co. B, Laredo, Texas’. 

Quickly he made a copy of the address, then picked up the envelope of clippings. They formed a complete, or nearly complete, record of everything Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry had done or had been accused of doing from about 1877 right up through the end of 1879. Something was odd about that. There were stories of robberies after that date, but in every case, the clipping had been pinned together with a later one, reporting the outlaws cleared of the crime they were alleged to have committed. 

Then he saw another clipping, also from the _Rocky_ , dating from the previous spring. It was a thrilling account of an attempted bank robbery in Idaho Springs, Colorado, describing the heroic actions of one Mr. Thaddeus Jones, his friend Mr. Joshua Smith, and the latter’s fiancée, Miss Wellington, who had stopped the robbery and aided in the apprehension of the robbers. He remembered having seen something in the Telluride paper about an attempted bank robbery in Idaho Springs. He had known that Smith and Jones were in Idaho Springs at the time, because Jones had been writing regularly to Miss O’More during the entire spring from that town, but he had not read the article and so had missed the connection.

Richard leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. _Dear God in Heaven! What am I to do_?

As if in answer to his prayer, thoughts and pictures began flooding into his mind: he, Richard, baptizing Thaddeus—Kid Curry, as he now knew—with his own hands in the river the previous summer, and the joy on the young man’s face when he came up out of the water; Thaddeus telling him seriously that he had killed two men[1], both while defending or avenging another man, and had crippled a third man[2] who was trying to kill _him_ , and he wondered if God could forgive him; the long, faithful correspondence with Lillian O’More, every ten days or so without fail, for almost a year now every time they had been apart; Smith—Hannibal Heyes—taking such care while performing a fraud audit for the bank, careful to never be left alone with the money or the combination to the safe, actually finding some irregularities and recommending that the bank have a formal audit done after those were corrected; both of them working hard for barely adequate pay the entire summer while they were in Telluride, in addition to doing a great deal of work for Lillian and her Irish Rose restaurant without pay; Curry’s eager acceptance of the invitation to join the men’s Bible study, while Heyes had engaged in long conversations with Richard, asking question after question about Christian baptism and how and why it could have such an effect on his partner; the story in the paper of the foiled bank robbery in Idaho Springs; the day he had seen Heyes posting a letter addressed to a Sheriff Trevors in Wyoming; Miss Wellington, clearly a law-abiding lady of good family, and her obvious love for her betrothed— _come to think of it, she must know who they are, and what’s going on, whatever it is, as well_ …

_I need to talk to Hannah before I decide what to do_ , he thought to himself, _but I already know what I’m_ not _going to do. The law is not going to hear about this from me. That was a real, true, honest conversion that I saw Curry make. He’s a brother in Christ now. I can’t possibly turn him in, and turning one of them in without the other would be dishonorable, as well as laying me open to a charge of concealing a fugitive. Besides, it’s obvious they’re no longer pursuing their earlier profession. I want to encourage them, not put difficulties in their way. I wonder what they_ are _doing? And then this address for Curry_ — _in care of a captain of Texas Rangers_?

Richard’s train of thought was broken by Dr. Hoogendyk, who came up to him where he was still sitting in Lillian’s front parlor. “Mr. Bancroft? It’s the influenza, all right. She has a fever and it’s mounting. She’ll need careful nursing.”

“That’s all right, Doctor. I’ve already sent a message to my wife. We’ll have her conveyed to our house and we’ll look after her. Hannah has done a good deal of sick nursing. She'll know what to do, and she will certainly be able to follow any instructions you give us. I’m just going home right now, as a matter of fact, to see that everything is in readiness.”

“At your home? Excellent. She should do well there. It’s taking her badly, though. She will probably get a great deal worse before she begins to mend.”

A few minutes later, a bemused Richard Bancroft set out for his home, but almost immediately another thought occurred to him. He changed direction and headed for the telegraph office. The sooner he got the wire off to Mr. Curry, the better—and he had an idea how he could kill two birds with one stone, as it were. _If I warn them, obliquely, that I know who they are, without giving them any guarantees, then their subsequent actions, or at least his, will tell me everything I need to know. If he decides not to take the risk, it will break her heart, but she’ll be better off without him, whereas if they come, risking their freedom, Curry for Lillian’s sake, and Heyes because he won’t leave his partner, it will say a good deal about their characters. And Thaddeus needs to know anyway_ — _if he’s the sort of man I think he is, he’d never forgive us if she were to be at death’s door and no one thought to inform him_. 

> TELLURIDE COLO 1147AM DEC 26 1881
> 
> E PARMALEE CAPT RANGER CO B 
> 
> LAREDO TEX
> 
> URGENT I GET IN TOUCH WITH THADDEUS JONES REGARDING ILL HEALTH OF LILLIAN OMORE BETROTHED TO HIM STOP PLEASE ADVISE OF WHEREABOUTS OR ASK HIM TO WIRE STOP YOURS FAITHFULLY
> 
> R BANCROFT COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW TELLURIDE COLO 1144AM

Uncertain whether he should wait in the hope of an immediate reply, Richard had not even left the telegraph office when the telegrapher turned to take an incoming message. “Mr. Bancroft? Wait. This is addressed to you.” 

> LAREDO TEX 1154AM DEC 26 1881
> 
> R BANCROFT COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW 
> 
> TELLURIDE COLO
> 
> THANK YOU FOR INFORMATION STOP RANGERS THADDEUS JONES JOSHUA SMITH CHAD COOPER ALSO MISS WELLINGTON WORKING IN ONEIDA TEXAS STOP MAY BE REACHED ONEIDA HOTEL STOP WARM REGARDS
> 
> E PARMALEE CAPT RANGER CO B LAREDO TEX 1151AM

Richard drew another telegraph form toward him and began to write, this time pausing for thought and to get the phrasing exactly right. For the moment, he put out of his mind the idea that the unknown Ranger captain had referred to Jones and Smith as Rangers who were working for him. Richard knew that if he thought about the implications of that too much, he would start to feel like the heroine of Lewis Carroll’s peculiar book.

> TELLURIDE COLO 1201PM DEC 26 1881
> 
> THADDEUS JONES ONEIDA HOTEL 
> 
> ONEIDA TEX
> 
> MANY IN TOWN DOWN WITH INFLUENZA MISS OMORE GRAVELY ILL BEING NURSED MY HOUSE STOP FOUND CLIPPINGS LETTER WITH ADDRESS IN DESK STOP UNDERSTAND IF YOU ARE UNABLE TO COME STOP SINCERELY
> 
> R BANCROFT COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW TELLURIDE COLO 1158AM

After reading his message over carefully, the lawyer paid for it to be sent and told the telegrapher he would wait. Unless Jones was out and they were unable to find him right away, Bancroft knew he would send some kind of reply as soon as he got the message.

**Oneida, Texas, Monday, December 26th, 1881, 12:06 p.m.**

Heyes got up to answer the knock on the door of their hotel room. They had been sitting quietly, talking with Paula about the festivities and the church services they had attended on Christmas Day. Thanking the telegraph messenger, he shut the door and turned to Kid, holding out the yellow envelope. “From Telluride.” The messenger had been unwilling to attempt the pronunciation and had simply written the town name on the envelope.

“What? She wouldn’t send Christmas greetings by wire—she already sent a card.” Kid snatched the envelope, opened it, and stared at the telegraph message, all the color draining from his face. With a quick glance at Paula, Heyes took the form and held it for her to read over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to find out train schedules. I think Tucumcari is the closest place we can catch a train.” 

“Hold on. That’s not all we have to find out,” warned Heyes. As his partner appeared to be ignoring him, he added sharply, “I mean it, Kid. We have to take some time right now to talk about this. A few minutes’ delay in sending a reply won’t matter.”

Kid seemed to be almost in a daze—understandable, thought Heyes. He himself was shocked at the clear indication that Bancroft knew who they were. That was in addition to the matter of Lillian’s illness.

“You’re right,” continued Curry with an effort. “We have to find out about the trains first anyway.”

Paula put on her hat. “How would it be if I do that? I’ll wire the railroad office in Tucumcari and find out what we need to know on that end, while you decide what to write. I’ll meet you at the telegraph office.”

“Thanks.” Heyes squeezed her hand. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Only after she had departed did he realize that she was speaking as though she knew they were going to Telluride and she was going with them. _When the first leg of the trip is a ride of over a hundred miles to Tucumcari? I can see I’ve got some things to discuss with her as well_ , he thought, forgetting for the moment what had happened when he had tried to convince her to stay behind in June, as they were preparing to leave Idaho Springs.

He looked back at his partner. “Kid, Lillie’s not dead. That’s the main thing.”

“Yeah, I know. But ‘gravely ill’ with the grippe. That’s pretty bad.” He met his partner’s eyes. “Heyes, you don’t have to come. But I’ve got to get there as soon as I can manage it.”

“I’m not lettin’ you go without me. See what he says here about the clippings? Remember that clippings file Lillian showed us, the one she said she’d been keeping since she first met us? He knows who we are, Kid. So you—we—could be riding into a trap.”

Kid gave him a long look. He himself trusted Richard completely—Richard had baptized him, after all. “Heyes, sometimes you gotta have a little faith.”

“You know I’m not very good at that. But I guess it’s unlikely he’d warn us and then set a trap for us. If he was planning to have us arrested, he shouldn’t have said anything at all, and we’d have just ridden on in. He’d have had us dead to rights.”

“I think he sent the warning on purpose,” said Kid. “See here, where he says he’ll understand if I’m unable to come. In other words, he thinks I might not want to risk it. But I got to, Heyes.”

“Of course you do. So we should let him know we got the warning, maybe sign our real initials to the wire.” Heyes wrote out a draft message on the back of the envelope. “How’s this? MESSAGE UNDERSTOOD LEAVING FOR TUCUMCARI SANTA FE DURANGO WIRE UPDATES TO T JONES DURANGO. JC & HH. We can wire again when we get to Santa Fe.”

“Sounds good to me. We gotta get packed, plan on leavin’ as soon as we can start.”

“No. We and our horses would do better with at least a few hours rest before we start. You won’t do Lillian any good by not getting there at all because you were too tired to go on. Figure we can get to Tucumcari in about eighteen hours, maybe less—O.K., we just need to know how soon a train is leaving out of there going north and west, then leave in time to catch it, maybe give ourselves a couple extra hours to be on the safe side. And we’re still workin’ for Captain Parmalee. We’ve got to wire him, or let Chad know and ask him to take care of that. Unless Parmalee can work something out in time, we’ll be riding off without collecting our pay for the past month of Ranger work. That’s forty dollars apiece for the month of December. We’ll need that money for travelling—we should at least make a try for it. Face it, Kid. I don’t think we’ll be able to leave today.”

There was a silence. Then Curry nodded reluctantly. “I guess there’s no sense in worryin’, is there? Let’s get over to the telegraph office and see what Paula’s been able to find out. And I’ve got to get this wire off to Richard. He’s probably waitin’ for a reply.”

At the telegraph office, Paula was waiting with several message forms in her hands. The outlaws both came to read over her shoulders as she spread them open one at a time. “This is from the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe. A train leaves Tucumcari every morning at 11:30 a.m.[3] Because that’s the end of the line, they always have stock cars coming in on the arriving trains, so they can accommodate our horses. The west-bound train isn’t usually crowded enough to make reservations advisable. But they can only get us as far as Santa Fe, by way of that spur line that goes north from Lamy.”

Heyes nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. I remember seeing the signs for that on the way down through there last November. But they were building track to Española to connect with the Denver and Rio Grande. I know they were.”

“Apparently no one’s completed it yet. So I wired the D&RG. They advise that it takes about five hours to ride or take the stage between Santa Fe and Española, and they have a train that leaves at half-past eleven in the evening, timed to accommodate passengers leaving the AT&SF train when it gets into Santa Fe at 4:45 p.m.. A stock car will be available.[4]” 

She produced a third telegraph. “That train goes to Antonito in Colorado, where we change trains. It’s still the Denver and Rio Grande line, but we have to catch the train coming down from Denver and going through to Durango, so there’s a wait in Antonito for the south-bound train to come through, which it does in the middle of the night. We can expect to get into Durango early in the morning on the twenty-eighth. It’s possible, if we can get to Tucumcari in good time.”

Heyes laid his hand on her shoulder and gripped it briefly. “Sweetheart, you’ve done a lot of work. This is everything we needed.”

“Not quite. We still have to figure how soon we have to leave for Tucumcari.” Her eyes went to Kid Curry’s face. “It’s a hundred and thirty miles. It’s a little after noon, and that ride is likely to take about eighteen hours, with stops to rest the horses. That means, if we leave here by four, we could catch that train tomorrow morning. At least that’s what I make it.” She looked back at Heyes, aware of how he hated to be left out of the planning. “It’s a hard ride, but I think we can do it. Of course, that’s up to you.”

“I’ve already told him I didn’t think we could leave today,” said Heyes, nodding toward his partner. “But, well, let’s get this telegraph sent to Richard first.” 

After the wire was sent, Heyes picked up a message pad and took it along, knowing they had several more messages to draft. The three of them walked back over to the hotel. 

Deceptively calm, Kid said, “I’d better go find Chad and tell him what’s up. He’ll need to know before Parmalee leaves his office today.” He had seen the worried look in Heyes’s face as Paula talked about their travel plans, and in spite of his own anxiety, he was amused at the conversation he could see was about to take place, with Heyes attempting to convince his betrothed that she shouldn’t try—or wouldn’t be able—to keep up with them on the mad dash they were about to make. For himself, Kid thought he would rather have her along. She was more experienced in prayer than he was, and he had a feeling they were going to be doing a lot of praying.

Watching his partner leave the hotel after ascertaining that Cooper was not in his room, Heyes turned back to Paula. “I know you have lots of experience making long-distance rides, what with all those trips to Laredo over the years. But this is different. I don’t want to think of you making that long, hard ride tonight, freezing out on the trail with no sleep.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “And what alternative is there? If you intend to leave me behind … what? For Chad to look after? … I wouldn’t be able to catch up to you the entire way. I’d be travelling those seven hundred and forty miles alone, with no escort. I’m telling you right now, Heyes, I shan’t do it. I won’t hold you back—I know how important this is. But I’m not staying behind.”

Exasperated, Heyes got up and paced back and forth. “Don’t argue with me.”

“I don’t wish to do so. But, darling, be reasonable. We don’t really have any choice in the matter. It would be different if I couldn’t ride.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. Once again, she was right.

“I’ve been thinking, while I was sending those messages and waiting for you and Kid to come to the telegraph office. I’d like to send a message to my brother to ask him to meet us in Durango, bringing three of our Friesians, with saddles for them. They’re bigger and heavier than the horses we’re riding now, and I think we’re going to need them if we have to cross a mountain pass into Telluride. The alternative would take another two days, as I recall—going through Dolores and Rico and up the west side of the San Juans. He can stop in Denver and get some supplies—anything we might need, anything they might be short of in Telluride, with half the town down with the grippe.”

“That’s an idea,” said Heyes, his face clearing. If they could make it as far as Durango without difficulty, it would indeed be better to be prepared for the rough mountain riding ahead of them. Especially if they took the Ophir Pass road between Silverton and Telluride. If it was even passable this time of year. There were so many things to consider. He realized some of it would have to be left until they arrived in Durango. And the worst part was still right at the beginning—the long ride to Tucumcari. With an effort, he forced himself to concentrate on what needed to be done. “Yes. Telegraph him, by all means. And I’ve got to wire Captain Parmalee.”

“Here comes Chad, with Kid. Maybe he can advise you about that.” Paula made use of the pen and ink kept in the lobby for the use of hotel guests, and began to write out the wire to her brother on the message pad.

The tall, broad-shouldered Ranger strode across the lobby, concern in his face. “Kid here told me what happened. I know you’ve got to leave pretty quick for Tucumcari. Anything I can do?”

“Thanks. I think there is. We’ve got to let Captain Parmalee know that we’re off the job as of today. I don’t know if he’ll be able to make arrangements to pay us, but we could sure use the money.”

“The captain discussed that possibility with me before I came up here to help you with Miss Hale. He knew you might need funds unexpectedly, and he also knew that the time might come when I might need some more help to finish investigating that land fraud case … in case I got too well known around here, for instance. He wired me some money two weeks ago, about the time the three of you and Miss Hale went down to Tombstone to take care of that job for Mr. McCreedy, and to escort Miss Hale and her father to meet _Señor_ Córdoba, while Curry came back up here. The captain also dispatched two men to relieve us on this job at the same time, and they should be here in a few days. So I can give you that eighty dollars, and I’ll wire the captain and tell him what’s going on.” He looked from one to the other. “But I was thinking of more practical help. Have you thought about when you need to leave to make that ride to Tucumcari?” 

“If we’re gonna catch that train leaving tomorrow morning, we’ve got to leave by half-past three this afternoon at the latest. I’d prefer a little earlier,” Heyes replied.

“Then I’ll get that money for you and telegraph Laredo right away. But you could leave a few things here and let me arrange for shipping, if they’re things you can get along without for a couple of weeks. Just give me an address where they should go.”

Paula looked up. “Chad, that’s a splendid idea! I have those extra dresses and hats that I brought to convince Miss Hale that I was a helpless, distracted, fashionable female from the East. I certainly shan’t have any use for them on the way, or likely when we get to Telluride. I suspect I’ll be helping to nurse Miss O’More, or lending a hand at her restaurant, or both. There will be no need for horrid frilly pink things. And their suits and Homburgs can be left here as well. That takes some of the weight off Prudence.”

Treading cautiously, Heyes said, “Dear, we haven’t finished discussing whether you’re going with us or not.”

“She’s going.” Kid’s tone was determined. “I hadn’t thought about her being able to help nurse Lillie, but they’d welcome another female, where it’s just possible they might not let me help until she’s starting to recover. If she … anyway, when she gets better.”

“If you’ll take a word of advice, Heyes,” Chad put in, “Miss Wellington is quite capable of managing that long ride to catch the train, especially with the speed and endurance of that little mare she’s riding. She might even leave your horses struggling to keep up. If I were you, I wouldn’t try to stop her out of concern for the weaker sex.” He saw the outlaw frown. “I’m being blunt with you, but I’ve known her longer than you have.” He tipped his hat to Paula and went up to his room, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Heyes, we need to pack up and decide what’s going on the mule and what can be left here,” his partner reminded him.

“You do that. I’ll be right with you,” responded Heyes, distracted. Kid went up the stairs and he turned back to his betrothed. “Let’s walk back over to the telegraph office. You need to send that wire to your brother.”

She tucked her hand into his arm. “Thank you.”

After a moment, Heyes asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you? No! And I was about to ask you the same question!”

“Sure?” Heyes was a trifle anxious. “I was just trying to protect you. It’s not that I think you can’t make the ride.”

“No, I understand. And I don’t mean to always be contrary, truly I don’t.” 

Later, after they had deposited the items being left behind with Chad Cooper for shipment, Kid said, “Paula, would you come back to our room for a few minutes?”

When they had shut the door, Kid turned to his partner’s betrothed. “I wanted to ask you to pray with me—with us. I know I gotta pray, and I just can’t think how.”

Heyes had sat down on the edge of his bed, but at this he rose and made as if to leave the room. “You don’t want me here for that. The Lord won’t be listenin’ to anything I have to say.”

“Hannibal, don’t go and leave me here unchaperoned,” Paula reminded him. “And what on earth gives you the idea that the Lord doesn’t listen to your prayers? What about this past March, when Kid broke his leg? And earlier, when you told me about being stranded out in the desert without water?”

“Oh. Well, I …” Heyes sat back down. “You two go ahead.”

Paula led in a brief request for journey mercies for them as they embarked on the long trip, and added a fervent prayer for Lillian’s healing. 

Kid joined in, hesitantly, not accustomed to praying aloud. “Lord, You know what’s wrong with Lillie, more than we do. You can heal her. You can … Lord, if she can only be alive when I get there …” His voice shook. “I know You love her, Lord, even more than I do. Help me trust You to take care of her, and help us to get there—in time.”

Paula finished with a quiet closure. “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, we pray as You have taught us:

Our Father, who art in heaven   
hallowed be thy name;   
thy kingdom come;  
thy will be done,   
on earth as it is in heaven.   
Give us this day our daily bread.   
And forgive us our trespasses,   
as we forgive those who trespass against us.   
And lead us not into temptation;   
but deliver us from evil.   
For thine is the kingdom,   
the power, and the glory,   
for ever and ever.   
Amen.”[5]

Both men joined in, familiar with that prayer from their days at the Home for Waywards. Kid’s drawn face relaxed. Heyes gave his betrothed a quick hug and kiss before escorting her to her own room. 

Page from 1881 Bible showing the Lord's Prayer with wording modified to match that in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer

* * *

[1] For the purposes of this story, it has been assumed that there is another killing in Kid Curry’s past—possibly from his late teens or early twenties, which happened when he was trying to protect someone else who didn’t have a gun.

[2] Joe Briggs, q.v. in the second-season episode “The McCreedy Bust: Going, Going, Gone.”

[3] A rail line was not actually through to Tucumcari until several years after this date. The dates were altered slightly for the sake of the story.

[4] D&RG finished the original southward extension as far as it was legally permitted to do, beginning service to Española on the 31st of December 1880. The D&RG could not finish the line, but nothing was stopping another railroad from completing the route to Santa Fe and providing contiguous service. In December of 1880, the Texas, Santa Fe & Northern was incorporated to do just that, declaring the line to be the San Juan Division. By 1882, work started building northward from the AT&SF at Santa Fe to reach the D&RG, a distance of about 38 miles. Despite the amount of grading that the D&RG had already done and abandoned in place in 1880, the TSF&N ran into financial trouble almost immediately. Work essentially stopped for four years and what little completed track was in place sat idle.

[5] Matthew 6:9-13, The Holy Bible, Authorized Version, 1611, as modified for corporate worship in the various editions of the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.


	2. The Desperate Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes shepherds his party as far as Durango, Colorado, while Counsellor-at-Law Richard Bancroft, in Telluride, tries to comfort Miss O'More, with unexpected results.

**Oneida, Texas, Monday, December 26th, 1881, 3:30 p.m.**

Oneida, Texas to Tucumcari, New Mexico Territory, 129 miles.[1] Heyes made a note in the small pocket notebook he carried with him as they finished saddling their horses and loading their gear onto Prudence’s pack saddle. The planning for this trip had involved so many things that had to be remembered and performed in the right sequence that he had made extensive notes, something he had almost never been obliged to do since leaving the Devil’s Hole gang. Leaving at half-past three—he checked his watch to be sure—they could expect to arrive in Tucumcari by ten the next morning, giving them some extra time to deal with unexpected occurrences on the road. This part of Texas was wide and flat and they could make good time. As the stage road entered New Mexico, they would encounter some hills, but the more rugged portions of the country were to the north of the road. The moon was not quite half full and would be bright enough as long as it was up, but it would set just after midnight. All they could do was hope that the road was clear and in good condition. Their horses would be able to see better than they could and they could push on by the light of the stars, he hoped, even if they had to slow their pace a little. Dawn would come around half past five.

*** *** *** 

Tucumcari to Santa Fe, by way of the spur line between Lamy and Santa Fe that the AT&SF had finally constructed, 225 miles by train. As they disembarked in Santa Fe, they caught sight of the clock inside the station. The train was right on time, arriving at 4:45 p.m. Heyes checked off the completed stage in his notes. Having eaten a good supper, they saddled up and set out on the thirty-eight-mile ride to Española, where they would take a D&RG train. After an uneasy rest of only about six hours, much of it spent standing in a moving stock car, their horses were tired and stiff, but willing enough to be moving again. 

They had ascertained that the D&RG, to accommodate north-bound passengers disembarking from the AT&SF train they had travelled on, had a train scheduled to leave Española daily at 11:30 p.m. The seven-hour gap allowed travellers time to rest, refresh themselves, and leave Santa Fe by horse or stagecoach to catch the train on the other line. 

Kid took the opportunity to send a telegraph to Richard Bancroft saying that they had reached Santa Fe and were pushing on. With a shrug, as he showed the message form to Heyes, he signed it simply ‘Jed’. The time for dissimulation was obviously past.

Heyes’s lips tightened—he still wasn’t perfectly certain that they weren’t riding into some kind of a trap—but he nodded. Perhaps, when Bancroft showed the telegraph to Lillian, if she was awake and able to look at it, it would cheer her up to know that they were coming as quickly as they could, and that her beloved was on good terms with her lawyer and friend.

**The Bancrofts’ home, Telluride, Tuesday evening, December 27th**

Thanking the telegraph messenger boy, Richard Bancroft closed the door and turned, the yellow envelope in his hand. Opening it quickly with a pen knife, he scanned the message that Curry had sent from Santa Fe. Together with the original wire from Oneida, it showed that the outlaws were making astonishingly good time. At this rate, he might well expect them to arrive some time on the 29th, if the weather held good and the passes between Telluride and Silverton were not blocked by a heavy fall of snow. He assumed Miss Wellington to be with them, though neither of the two telegraph messages had so stated. He could not quite imagine Joshua—Hannibal Heyes, he reminded himself—leaving her behind, or the lady agreeing to be so left.

He shook his head, still unable quite to accept the idea that Lillian O’More, the steady, honest, virtuous, Christian young woman he and his wife had known for years, could possibly be involved in this entire situation, laying herself open to a charge, at the very least, of aiding and abetting the escape of a wanted outlaw. Lillian. Even now, he had trouble believing it.

Knowing that Lillian would want to hear the news—she had a fever that was keeping her in bed, but it had not yet mounted to a critical stage, and the doctor was in hopes that it would not do so—Richard mounted the stairs to the spare bedroom, telegraph in hand.

Hannah Bancroft looked up from where she was sitting in the corner, doing some mending, and smiled at her husband. “She’s asleep.”

“No, I’m not,” protested Lillian. She saw the yellow form. “What is it, Richard? For me?” She struggled to sit up, alarmed, and Hannah immediately slipped a pillow behind her while Richard supported her with an arm around her shoulders.

“No, it’s to me, but I thought you’d like to know. It’s from Thaddeus Jones, sent from Santa Fe. They’re on their way here—making very good time, too. He’ll be with you in three days or less. That’s good news, now, isn’t it?”

Her brow wrinkled. That didn’t quite make sense. Miss Wellington and the boys had been in Texas—she knew that, as she had helped them make the plan to ensnare Clementine Hale and get the dangerous photograph away from her. But Oneida, where they had planned to meet Miss Hale, was many miles away from any rail line. It wasn’t possible they could be in Santa Fe. And how had they known she was ill? 

She reached out and slipped the telegraph out of Richard’s hand, holding it close to her eyes, trying to make out the words. Fretfully, she reached for her glasses, lying on the bedside table. Hannah gave them to her and helped her settle them on her nose. 

> TUCUMCARI N MEX 1000AM DEC 27 1881
> 
> R BANCROFT 
> 
> TELLURIDE COLO
> 
> LEFT ONEIDA YESTERDAY AFTERNOON TRAIN TUCUMCARI TO SANTA FE TODAY STOP IN DURANGO BY MORNING STOP GIVE HER ALL MY LOVE
> 
> JED TUCUMCARI N MEX 957AM

Lillian frowned at the paper. She ached all over, and a severe headache made it difficult for her to concentrate, but something wasn’t right. She read it again. “That’s miles and miles on horseback, surely? The railroad isn’t through to Oneida yet.”

“No,” Richard said. “I checked the map. It’s about a hundred and thirty miles between there and Tucumcari, where they caught the train. They must have ridden all night.”

Suddenly it dawned on Lillie what was wrong. This telegraph was addressed to ‘R Bancroft’. But it was signed with Jed’s real name. _Dear God. That must mean_ … “Richard! Why’d he sign it that way? How’d they know I was ill? What happened?” She trailed off, clutching the sheet in her hands, crumpling the yellow form as she did so, her eyes, wide with fright, fixed on the lawyer’s face.

Richard exchanged a quick glance with his wife. For a moment, trying to encourage Lillian with the news that her lover was on his way, he had forgotten that the matter of how he discovered the outlaws’ real names had still to be told. Well, it was too late now. “Lillian, shh, it’s all right! When you collapsed yesterday, I thought Thaddeus had better be told, so I looked in your desk to see if I could find an address for him. I found the Laredo address and wired the Ranger captain that I needed to get in touch with Thaddeus as soon as possible. Here.” He pulled the counterfoil of the message from his breast pocket, together with Parmalee’s reply. “He told me Thaddeus and Joshua, and Miss Wellington, were in Oneida, Texas, apparently doing work for the Texas Rangers.” 

He passed over the messages, which Lillian almost snatched from his hands. “I still don’t understand that, but no doubt somebody will explain it to me one of these days. When I found the address in your desk, I saw the letter you had begun to your fiancé, with the salutation ‘Dear Jed’. I saw enough, in the letter and on the sheet of paper where you had been practicing your married name, to realize what their real names must be. Then I found the envelope of clippings about Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, which confirmed what I suspected.” Seeing the horror in Lillian’s green eyes, he hurried on. “There’s no need for you to worry. When I wired Thaddeus in Oneida, I tried to warn him that I knew who they were. When they answered, they signed it JC and HH, to let me know they had understood that—well, here, you can see for yourself.” He handed her two more telegraphs.

Lillian began to cry, softly, despairingly. “So you know. All because I left that stupid piece of paper and the letter where they could be found. I’ve been so careful—and now … they’re coming here, and it’s not safe for them—and he’ll never trust me again.”

Helplessly, Richard tried to soothe her. “My dear, they’ll be safe enough. I don’t mean them any harm. And I haven’t told anybody except Hannah, here. I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Curry, that is, Thaddeus, was on his way and will be here soon. I thought it would cheer you up. Please don’t distress yourself …” He broke off as she sobbed harder, heedless of his attempts to explain.

“You’re only making matters worse right now. Leave her to me. You can bring me some of that chicken broth, if you want to make yourself useful.” Hannah shooed her husband out of the room.

When he returned, with a bowl of freshly heated chicken broth on a tray, his wife took the tray from his hands and said briskly, “Lillian, come, you must try to eat some of this broth. You have to keep up your strength.” Hannah Bancroft’s early distrust and dislike of Thaddeus Jones as a no-good drifter who would either take advantage of Lillian in some way or break her heart by leaving without explanation, having caused her to fall in love with him, had not survived the young man’s Christian baptism the previous July, followed by his giving his lady an actual engagement ring. Hannah had accepted that Jones did seem to be a good, honorable man who only meant the best for Lillian and would probably make her a good husband. Then had come her husband’s discovery, two days earlier, that Jones was really Kid Curry, former bank and train robber. She had acquiesced in Richard’s conclusion that Curry was still a good man, his conversion a real one, his love for Lillian and desire to make an honest living quite obvious, though she had admitted to some remaining traces of uneasiness. Until the telegraph came from Texas that the two outlaws were setting out on a long, arduous journey, risking capture at the hands of a lawyer who had given them no guarantees of any kind, so that Jed Curry could be with his beloved in her illness. Hannah’s every doubt that Curry was the right man for Lillian had finally vanished in the face of such dramatic proof.

She sighed. Her husband had, of course, meant nothing but the best by showing Lillian the telegraph to encourage her with the knowledge that her betrothed was on his way. Neither of them had realized that she would jump to the conclusion that the wanted men she had been protecting for so long would now not be able to trust her.

The patient turned her head to observe that a spoonful of broth was being offered to her. Listlessly, she took what she was given, but stopped eating as soon as Hannah stopped actively putting spoonfuls in her mouth. 

Richard was shocked at the change in her appearance in the space of twenty minutes—her face was blotched and streaked with tears, and an uncharacteristic flush was showing itself in red spots on her cheekbones, standing out strongly against the pallor of her skin. He laid the back of his wrist against her forehead and looked at his wife, concerned. Her fever seemed to be growing worse. Taking Hannah aside, he suggested sending for the doctor again. She shook her head, thinking that the perception of higher fever might simply be related to the agitation Lillian was experiencing.

“If she’s worse tomorrow, dear, then send for him, by all means. When—when do you think Thaddeus and Joshua are likely to get here?”

“There’s no telling what delays they’ll run into, but if they get into Durango tomorrow morning, and the snow holds off, they might well be here tomorrow evening. They’ll have to come over Ophir Pass, but from the reports I’ve heard, that road is open. I’ve telegraphed to Thaddeus in Durango that there hasn’t been much snow in the high country yet this year and the passes are still open, so they won’t have to go around by way of Dolores and Rico. We’ll just have to pray for their safety.”

She nodded. “I’ve been doing so ever since you told me you’d wired them.”

*** *** *** 

Española to Antonito, 130 miles by train. West through Toltec Gorge and over 10,015-foot Cumbres Pass to Durango, Colorado, another 145 miles. Heyes checked the two stages off in his notebook, somewhat optimistically, as the D&RG train left Española. He reached out to touch Paula’s hand. “Are you doing all right? We should be able to get some rest now. We’ll be on this train or the next one most of the night.”

“Yes, I’m well enough. Tired, of course. I was wishing that we could take that train from Antonito to Durango in the daylight. Remember the beautiful, wild scenery, when we took it coming down here?”

Heyes blinked. He hadn’t given any thought to the scenery. His mind had been concentrated on getting the three of them to the next point in their journey, and eventually to Durango, where they hoped to hear from Richard about the state of the roads to the north, so they could choose which way to go. His partner and his fiancée had both held up surprisingly well. Paula had kept up on the brutally hard ride from Oneida without complaint and without slowing them down; in fact, for much of the way, she and her hot-blooded young Arabian mare had set the pace. It had been Kid’s gelding, the only one of their animals with no Arabian blood in his veins, who had been stumbling with weariness by the time they had reached Tucumcari, seemingly kept on his feet only by determination and his love for his master. Although the horse had regained some of his strength while on board the train during the day, Paula had suggested that they transfer the light pack containing their supplies to him, allowing Kid to ride Prudence between Santa Fe and Española. The sassy molly mule was in the best shape of all four animals, seemingly willing to keep going indefinitely, and had raised no objection to carrying a rider instead of a pack.

Watching his partner’s face as Kid settled himself in a more comfortable position for sleep, Heyes thought that he was taking the emotional strain much better than could have been expected. Kid was quite phlegmatic as a rule, taking things as they came, but over the spring and summer, as his love for Miss O’More deepened, so had his ability to accept trouble and delay with his usual indifference lessened—until that day in July that he had heeded God’s call to be baptized. After that, he seemed to have a new peace, a different attitude toward their often precarious situation, which kept throwing off Heyes’s calculations. He really was, in some ways, a different man. Then had come this news of Lillian’s illness, and the long, harrowing journey. Kid had been worried, naturally, but every time the strain seemed likely to overwhelm him, Heyes had seen him bowing his head in silent prayer. And at the beginning of each new stage of their journey, he had repeated the pattern of the first night, asking Paula to lead them in a brief prayer aloud, which they closed by reciting the Lord’s Prayer together.

**Durango, Colorado, Thursday, December 29th, 7:15 a.m.**

As the train pulled into the station, Heyes, who was sitting on the left side of the coach facing forward, was able to get a glimpse of the platform, lit by the rising sun. He looked down at his fiancée, asleep with her head resting against his chest, as she had been for the past four hours except during the brief halts at the top of Cumbres Pass and at other points along the line to take on water. He tapped her shoulder gently. “Dear heart, wake up. We’re coming into Durango, and your brother’s waiting for us on the platform.”

“He is?” Kid leaned over to look out the window. “Yeah, I see him. He should have some news for us about the state of the roads. And I’ll check at the telegraph office to see if there’s word from Richard.”

Over a hot breakfast at a café two streets to the west of the station, the travellers told their news. Paul Wellington had received his sister’s telegraph on Monday afternoon and had left for Denver the same day. The Ramsay boys had helped him to bring four of the big Dutch Friesian horses, with all their gear, and such supplies as they could bring with them, taking their own horses to ride back to the ranch. He had managed to catch the south-bound D&RG train leaving Denver for Durango early in the morning on the 27th, and had arrived in the bustling little mountain town the previous day. 

“I stocked up on some medicines, fever powders and that sort of thing, before I left Denver,” he finished. “I even brought along some live chickens. The horses and supplies are in the livery stable here. And I’ve talked to the train men about the track to Silverton. It’s not quite completed yet—the tracks stop three miles short of the town—but there’s a good road from there. They tell me the tracks are relatively clear of snow and there will be no problem getting through, so I arranged for a special. The crew is standing by right now, with an engine, tender, parlour car, stock car, and caboose.” He observed the surprise on Heyes’s face. “That’s if you decide to go that way. But I thought it would be useful to have those arrangements in hand. They have steam up in the boiler and they’re ready to go when we are.”

“You’re coming with us?” Paula exclaimed.

“I thought I’d better plan on it,” he returned. “Going over Ophir Pass, which it looks like we’ll be able to do, since we have Bancroft’s telegraph assuring us the passes are clear of heavy snow, you’re probably going to be glad of an extra man and an extra horse. Roy and Ellen and the Ramsays can look after the ranch until spring.”

“Wait a minute.” Things were moving altogether too quickly for Heyes. “A special? You mean you just walked up to the offices of the D&RG here and told them you wanted to arrange for a special train and they agreed to it?”

“Why, yes.” Wellington seemed surprised. “Under the circumstances, I thought it might be the best thing. They told me they don’t run regularly scheduled trains to Silverton during the winter, so I asked about the possibility of a special. It’s quite commonly done.” 

“Not by us, it ain’t.” Heyes would never have thought of chartering a special, even if they should have the money to do so. “And how much will it cost? I don’t know if we have the money to spare. It’s not really your business to pay for it, if that’s what you were gonna say.”

“Not as much as I thought it might—about a hundred and fifty dollars, I believe. You can repay me part of the cost later, but we’ll split the total. After all, with my sister determined to go where you go, it _is_ my business, at least partially. She’s not your wife yet, Heyes.”

“Heyes, what are you arguin’ with the man about? I think it’s a great idea. I wouldn’t have thought of it—like you said, we ain’t in the habit of doin’ things like chartering special trains—but you gotta admit we’re gonna need it.” Kid turned to Wellington. “Don’t mind him. I’m grateful for what you’ve done. We should be able to leave within the hour, then.”

Heyes said nothing. His partner was right, of course. He extracted some money from his wallet and paid for the meal while the others gathered up coats and hats.

Hearing no further objections, Paul offered to lead the way to where the crew of the special waited. They could make the final preparations for departure while the horses were being brought over from the livery stable and loaded into the stock car.

When he had discussed the route with the engineer and had ascertained that they would be arriving in Silverton shortly after noon, Kid returned to the telegraph office to send a message to Richard, letting him know their plans. They hoped to push on from Silverton in the early afternoon, crossing Ophir Pass and coming down into the little town of Ophir shortly after sundown. 

* * *

[1]One-hundred-mile endurance rides, such as the Big Horn 100 and the Tevis Cup, with conditioned horses and riders, are done at an average of seven to eight miles per hour, plus at least two one-hour stops, allowing good riders to do the hundred miles, over varied and challenging terrain, in about 18 hours, so these times are not being underestimated. Table of average gait speeds over varied terrain, by size of mount, is courtesy of the American Endurance Ride Conference.

Gait

| 

Large Pony

| 

Horse  
  
---|---|---  
  
Walk

| 

3.5mph

| 

3.7 to 4 mph  
  
Slow Trot

| 

4.5 mph

| 

5 mph  
  
Medium Trot

| 

6-7.5 mph

| 

6-8 mph  
  
Fast Trot

| 

7.5-10 mph

| 

9-11 mph  
  
Canter

| 

10-14 mph

| 

12-15 mph  
  
Hand Gallop

| 

14-22 mph

| 

15-25 mph


	3. The Special Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curry and Heyes have chartered a special train for the journey to Silverton, but can it get through the snow?

**Durango, Colorado, Thursday, December 29th, just after sunrise**

The tiny train pulled out of Durango, gathering steam on the newly laid tracks to the north, beginning the forty-two mile journey to the end of the tracks and the Silverton Wye, three miles short of Silverton. Once the train was in motion, two of the crew came forward from the caboose to see that everything was to their passengers’ liking. Lyle, the conductor, told them frankly that he, the engineer, the fireman, and the brakeman were more than willing to coax as much speed out of the engine as they could to help Mr. Jones get to his fiancée, since they understood that she was desperately ill. It was clear that the men were pleased to be assisting in what they regarded as a romantic mission. Kid thanked them, and in the ensuing discussion, it came out that the lady he was going to see was Miss Lillian O’More, owner of the Irish Rose. 

The brakeman’s face lit up with pleasure. “Miss O’More? That’s quite a lady. And quite a cook! That restaurant has to be the best place to eat for fifty miles around. You don’t mean to say you’re taking her away, Mr. Jones?”

“Well, not right away. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to get married, but when we do, yeah, she’ll be coming with me.” He indicated Heyes and the Wellingtons. “My cousin here is betrothed to this lady—she and her brother raise horses up in the Estes Park area. We’ll probably all settle down somewhere around there. Maybe we can get the Irish Rose started up again someday—who knows?” His smile faded. “If—when—she gets better. They’re sayin’ she’s got a pretty bad case of the grippe.”

The conductor and the brakeman both sobered. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can. And we’re gonna do our best to get you there, which has got to help her,” Lyle assured him.

“I hope so. It’s just feelin’ so helpless. We’ve been prayin’, and we’ll keep on prayin’—that’s all we can do right now. But I appreciate your help,” Kid replied.

The crewmen made inarticulate indications of sympathy, and seeing that he preferred to be left alone, made their way back to the caboose. Kid sat down toward the front of the car, in a side-facing seat from which he could watch the rocks and trees slipping quickly past.

Sitting with both Wellingtons about halfway back, Heyes made an effort to begin a cheerful conversation. “You said your ranch would be all right without you until the spring. Spring’s a long way off.”

“Yes, rather, but you weren’t planning on leaving Telluride any time soon, were you? From what I know of winter in the high country, I suspect we’re going to be there for the rest of the winter. If we can get through before the first heavy snowfall comes—and it’ll be God’s mercy that we do—we shan’t be able to get out of that valley again until the snow has started to melt. I consulted a map before I left Denver. They have to dig themselves out after every major storm. And this track we’re on is likely to be closed by snow slides, the crew told me.”

Heyes did not reply at once. After spending his last winter in Devil’s Hole over three years ago, and nursing his cousin through an attack of the grippe when they had been snowed in at a placer claim in the winter of ’79[1], he had thankfully forgotten what it was like to be snowed in for weeks on end. And in Telluride, where someone might just possibly recognize them. That had been his concern in the autumn of 1880—that they might have to run for it, and the isolated mining town, nestled in the inner end of a box canyon closed off to the east by a fourteen-thousand-foot mountain range with only two passes over it, would be difficult to escape from in winter. Then he remembered that someone in Telluride already knew who they were—Richard Bancroft. The lawyer was still an unknown quantity, no matter how well they had come to know him during the summer. Well, if they were going into a trap, it couldn’t be helped now. He would just have to figure a way out of it when the time came. Idly, he wondered if his betrothed could be depended upon to help break them out of jail or free them from the hands of the law, should it become necessary. He hoped not, but it would, he supposed, be interesting to see what she would do if she thought they were depending on her.

He turned back to Paula’s brother, whom he liked, but toward whom, at this present moment, he felt an indefinable irritation. “You’re expecting to stay in Telluride until sometime in March, then?”

“Probably,” replied Paul. “Much will depend on the weather and other factors. Easter falls on the ninth of April this year, rather late in the spring. I’d prefer to be home, or at least in the Denver area, before then.”

Paula looked up at this. “So late?” She trailed off, sensing tension between the two men.

Heyes’s irritation was growing. “There’s no need to stay in Telluride longer on our account.”

His future brother-in-law smiled cheerfully. “Oh, I shan’t, unless there is some sort of trouble. As you say, you shouldn’t need me for anything once this trip is accomplished.” He nodded courteously to Heyes, got up, and moved quietly away to a seat at the very back of the car, where he took a book out of his pocket and began to read.

Watching this byplay in some concern, Paula turned to her betrothed. “What is it, Heyes? What’s wrong? And please don’t say ‘nothing’. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s another matter.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Heyes said, “I suppose I should go after him and apologize. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Well, yes, I know,” she replied matter-of-factly. “There’s no need to apologise, though. Paul knows something’s upsetting you—that’s why he moved away, so as not to make matters worse. What I should like to know is what it is. Surely he hasn’t done anything to annoy you. If so, it’s he who ought to apologise.”

“No!” Now Heyes was embarrassed. “It’s not your brother’s fault or anybody else’s except mine.”

She laid her hand on his where it rested on his knee, but said nothing further. He would explain if she gave him time.

Finally, with an effort, Heyes said, “He’s going to want to take you with him in the spring. Isn’t he? You haven’t been home for almost a year—it’ll be a year in March, anyway. You’ve been runnin’ around the country with us. It’s only reasonable he’ll want you home.”

“I hadn’t given that any thought one way or another. Late spring gets fairly busy on the ranch, so I’m sure they could use my help. They could use yours and Kid’s, too, for that matter. And I should like to wear some different dresses and hats than the ones I have with me. But there are so many things that could happen in the next three months. I certainly wasn’t thinking of making any hard and fast plans just yet. Besides …” She stopped and turned to smile at him. “That’s more or less up to you. It’s certainly not up to Paul. Go and ask him if you like.”

In the back corner of the rail car, Wellington wondered how the conversation between the lovers was going. He knew his sister would try to find out what was bothering Heyes. One or the other of them might even come and tell him, though he had a suspicion he knew what it was. The former outlaw leader was accustomed to being in charge of things, making decisions for himself, his partner, and now, often, his betrothed. For his future brother-in-law to descend upon them unexpectedly and start making arrangements that affected everyone, without so much as a by-your-leave, was bound to upset him. Well, they would all just have to await events. He looked up from his book to see the pair of them coming toward him down the centre of the swaying coach.

Heyes walked up and said, without preamble, “Sorry, Wellington. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Not at all,” returned the Englishman politely. His eyes searching Heyes’s face, he added, “Please do me the favour of putting the whole matter out of your mind.”

“Sure.” The two men shook hands, and Heyes sat down beside Paula, who had already taken a seat across from her brother. Before continuing, Heyes shot a glance at the other end of the car, where his cousin sat, as still as stone, staring out the window, his fists lightly clenched on his knees, as though urging the train to go faster. He looked back at Wellington. “I thought maybe you’d try to take her away with you in the spring. But she said it was too early to make plans, and besides, she said that was up to me.”

Paul couldn’t help laughing outright at this naïve assertion. “Up to you? Well, it’s a nice sentiment.”

“Paul!” His sister showed him a shocked face.

He smiled somewhat sardonically. “Heyes, I hate to disillusion you …”

Heyes couldn’t help it. He started to laugh as well, guessing what was coming next.

“You’re not married to her yet. When you are, I hope—in fact, I am sure—that she will obey you faithfully, however difficult that will be for her. But until then, what my sister will do is anyone’s guess. I doubt it’s going to be ‘up to you’ to control her behaviour.” He looked thoughtful. “That’s not to say that I shouldn’t appreciate some help on the ranch, or that I will fail to mention it if she seems to be completely neglecting that part of her responsibilities. But that really hasn’t occurred yet—all this time that she’s been away, there have been good reasons for it. And the ranch is doing well enough that I’ve been able to hire extra help when necessary, as I did at the beginning of the summer. Now if she were to take to wandering about the country alone, I should certainly object, and do my best to prevent it. But she hasn’t been doing that. She’s been with the two of you, and I’m perfectly well aware that you’ve taken care not to compromise her reputation.”

“Yeah, we’ve been real careful,” Heyes assured him. “She hasn’t been left alone with me for much longer than twenty or thirty minutes at a time, except in public places where no harm would be done.”

Paula withdrew her knitting from its bag and began work on the foot of her stocking, content to wait until her brother and her fiancé stopped talking about her as if she were absent.

The train slowed and came to a stop. The view from the windows indicated that they were nowhere near Silverton. Heyes stood up, intending to find out what was going on. He looked toward Kid to mention this, but his cousin wasn’t even looking out the window to see why they had stopped. He was on his knees, resting his elbows on the seat, his head bowed in his hands, his hat shielding his face so that his expression could not be seen. Heyes decided against disturbing him; clearly he was praying or thinking and had no attention to spare for anything else. About to step down from the back platform, Heyes drew back to allow the engineer, who was just below, to climb up. 

“Mr. Smith? I thought you might be worried. We’ve stopped because there’s a siding here, and they told us before we left Durango that there’s a work train coming down. They’ve been running the snow plow through the areas up above us where snow slips are likely, so the crew of the work train should have news for us about the condition of the track.” 

Paul came over. “I was told it was relatively clear of snow.” 

“Yes, that’s what we heard, Mr. Wellington, but that was from men who came down with a shipment of silver ore early yesterday morning. At these elevations and at this time of year, conditions can change a lot in twenty-four hours. Mr. Jones?” He saw the silhouette of the man kneeling at the front of the car. “Ah. I’d say we could all stand to do a little praying. You can tell him, Mr. Smith, that the fireman and I have been praying, ourselves, in the cab. We’ll do our best to get you through in good time, but it’s really up to God, in this kind of terrain in December.”

“I’ll tell him. He’s better at talking to God than I am, but we’ve all been praying ever since we heard of Miss O’More’s illness, when we were still down in Texas,” Heyes responded with aplomb, as though he did that sort of thing every day.

“That’s right,” said the engineer. “Lewis, the brakeman, said that was the name of the lady who was ill, and that she owns a real nice restaurant over in Telluride. I’ve never been there. I’ll have to look it up some day.”

“It’s worth the trip just for the food,” replied Heyes. They heard the whistle of the approaching work train. “You’d better go see what they say. Let us know if it turns out we’re stuck here for a while. Or if you need us to shovel snow.”

“I will.” The engineer jumped clear of the back platform and returned to his engine, waving to the other three crewmen to resume their places.

“We didn’t think of offering him coffee or tea,” said Wellington, conscience-stricken. They had made a pot of each, using the wood-burning stove in the front of the coach.

“Train crews usually make their own coffee or tea by using a little shelf on the back end of the boiler in the cab,” said Heyes. “Kid and I’ve seen that done many times.” 

Kettle heating on the back of a steam engine boiler

Just then they heard the four short blasts on the whistle that indicated the train was ready to move. A moment later, with a slight jerk, they started up again. Heyes walked forward to where Kid was, putting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You O.K.?”

Curry looked up, seeming a little dazed. “Yeah, sure. Give me a hand up, will you?” He scrambled to his feet, gripping Heyes’s hand. “Thanks. Keep forgettin’ that leg occasionally stiffens up on me if I’m too long in one position.”

Heyes sat down beside him. “I was talkin’ to the engineer. He said we stopped back there because there was a train with a snow plow on it up above us, comin’ down from Silverton. We had to let them get by. I guess the track’s clear, because we’re movin’ again now. The engineer said to tell you that he and the fireman were praying, too. Said it was up to God to get us through. And they were prayin’ for Lillie as well—at least, I think they were.”

“That’s good to know.” Kid looked out the window again, but all they could see were snow-covered branches and stretches of wet rock, with occasional glimpses of the Las Animas River far below, as the train negotiated a section of track cut into the side of a cliff. “I need to thank them.”

D&RG train on way to Silverton in winter, © D.W. Young

“I think we should give ’em a little tip as well, maybe five dollars apiece for the four of them. Have you got ten you can spare?”

Kid reached into his pocket. “Yeah, I do. Here, you take it.” He passed over two five-dollar gold pieces. “You can give the money to the engineer when we get to the end of the line. They said they can’t go any further than the Silverton Wye, about three miles out of town. The tracks aren’t finished into Silverton yet. There’s a good road—we just have to ride into town from the wye.”

“I’ll take care of the tip. Want some coffee? I’ll bring it to you.” Heyes got up and went forward to the stove, where he poured a cup of coffee and took it to his partner. “Careful, it’s real hot.”

Since it was rapidly getting colder as the train climbed higher into the mountains, Kid accepted the hot drink gratefully. 

* * *

[1] q.v. the second-season episode “Night of the Red Dog.”


	4. Encounter on Ophir Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crossing the 11,800-foot Ophir Pass in winter, Kid Curry is leading the way when he sees something remarkable.

**Silverton, Colorado, Thursday, December 29th, mid-day**

As the train slowed again, they looked out the window on the west side of the train and saw the wye. A couple of minutes later the train came to a stop beside the temporary platform which had been built to allow access to the road leading into the town of Silverton. The men busied themselves unloading the seven horses and the mule, with all of their gear, while Miss Wellington made herself responsible for gathering up all of their personal items and ensuring that nothing was left in the parlor car. She poured out the remains of the coffee and tea and wiped the pots and cups dry before stowing them in the pack Heyes had brought into the car, then descended to the platform, pulling her coat more tightly about her against the sharp wind.

They led the horses down the ramp to the road and began tightening cinches and checking the bindings on saddlebags and bedrolls. The four animals not being ridden had been provided with halters and long lead ropes by which they would be led, one behind each rider, on the narrow mountain road ahead of them. After looking at a map and ascertaining that all three passes to the west side of the San Juans were likely to be open, the fall and early winter having been one of those dry, mild seasons which occurred periodically in Colorado, Heyes had decided to take the Ophir Pass road. At 11,789 feet, the pass was not only the lowest of the three, but by all accounts the road leading to it ascended by means of a very gentle climb over a good mining road. If the weather remained clear, the descent on the west side would not be too difficult, either, in spite of the long talus slope which the road crossed just west of the town of Ophir. It had the disadvantage of being the only one of the three passes they had never ridden over, but Wellington had obtained advice from mining interests in Durango, and Heyes hoped to acquire more descriptions of the road before leaving Silverton. 

The engineer strolled over to them while the other three crewmen got ready to back the train into the wye and turn it around for the descent to Durango. Before leaving the wye, they would refill the tender with wood and water.

Heyes turned from tightening the cinch on the big Friesian gelding he planned to ride. “Thank you for all your help. I know you’re getting paid by the railroad, but we hope you’ll accept a tip of sorts.” As he held out the four five-dollar gold coins, his partner came around the front of his horse to join him.

With a surprised look, the man accepted the money. “I’ll see the others get their share.” After a quick glance behind him to verify that his colleagues were out of earshot, he held out his hand. “Mr. Heyes, Mr. Curry, I’ll wish you both Godspeed on the rest of your journey. My name’s Edwards.”

The outlaws accepted the offered hand, one after the other, and Heyes managed a cheerful grin, which, Edwards thought to himself, would have confirmed his memory of the train robber’s identity if he had had any doubts. That charming, infectious grin was unforgettable, though he could not help noticing that the brown eyes held a much warmer expression than the one he remembered. The train robber’s smile that he had seen three years before had not reached his eyes. 

Seeing that neither Heyes nor Curry had any comment to make, he explained, “I used to be on the Union Pacific Cheyenne to Salt Lake City run a few years ago. I moved down this way and took a job with the D&RG, hoping it would be a little less exciting. Taking trains over difficult mountain terrain is challenging, sure, but we don’t get held up as often. I recognized you both from having been held up by your Devil’s Hole gang more than once on that Union Pacific route. And here you are giving my crew and me tips for our trouble.”

By this time, the Wellingtons had seen there was some difficulty and had come over, watching the conversation carefully. In a low voice, Heyes muttered, “I knew there was a reason we didn’t want to hire a special.” He smiled at Edwards again. “You can go on and say whatever you were gonna say. Miss Wellington is betrothed to me, and she and her brother know who we are.”

The engineer glanced sharply at the composed young woman, who met his eyes and nodded. “That’s good to hear. See, I thought about turning you in, or at least telling someone about it so someone could come after you, but that would mean somebody’d be trying to claim the reward on you both, or worse, trying to give the money to me, and I knew I couldn’t do it. I’m a Christian, and …” his eyes strayed to Kid Curry for a moment “I think you are as well, Mr. Curry.”

“Yep. In July.”

“Well, seems like it wouldn’t be right, us saying we’d do our best to get you to your lady when she needs you, and praying for her right along with you—and then trying to turn you in for money. So I’m just going to wish you Godspeed, like I said. And I suppose I oughta thank you boys for not holding us up, though there’s nothing on this train to steal.”

“We don’t rob trains and banks any more—we quit doin’ that two years ago,” Heyes assured him. “We’re straighter ‘n’ a pair of yardsticks now, though we’re still wanted. Thank _you_ , Mr. Edwards, for not trying to arrest us.”

The engineer nodded. “If I don’t see you again, I hope you make it to Telluride safely, and that Miss O’More recovers her health. And I’ll keep right on praying—for all of you.” He shook hands once again, touched his cap to Miss Wellington, and turned away to mount into his cab.

Heyes let go his breath in a long sigh. “That could have been awkward. We’re carrying guns and he wasn’t, but still … I wouldn’t have wanted to pull one on him, even to free ourselves. Not after we told him we were going straight.”

“You could tell he wasn’t gonna do anything,” said Kid. “At least, I could tell.”

Heyes let this pass. After a moment, he said, “Let’s get on into town, get ourselves some lunch, and see if we can find out more about this road we want to take.” He looked to the northwest, where they could see blue sky over the tops of the mountains. “Still looks clear up that way. We should get out of here as soon as we can to take advantage of the good weather.” 

Otto Mears Toll Road, going north from Silverton to Ouray

Having been given detailed directions, they left Silverton around 1:30 p.m., heading northwest on 12th to Reese Street, and finally turning north onto the road leading to the two southern passes over the San Juans into Telluride. Portions of the road north to Ouray, in the process of being improved at considerable cost, which builder Otto Mears hoped to recoup in tolls, were already being referred to by some miners and shippers of ore, facetiously, as the Million Dollar Highway, a possible reference to the mine tailings with which the road was surfaced.[1] After a distance of less than five miles, they turned west onto Ophir Road and set out on the nine-mile ride to the top of the pass. 

Near the summit of Ophir Pass, making their way through light snowdrifts, they came to a dangerous, slippery section. The snow was piled high in places and it was difficult to make out the road. As the route ascended and became covered with snow, the four riders had been taking turns, letting a different rider break trail every half hour or so, which avoided too much strain being put on any one horse. 

Friesian horse under Western saddle

Kid was in the lead. Once again he gave silent thanks that Paula had had the idea to send for her brother and the Friesians. The snow was not overly deep, but they would not be making nearly the progress that they had been if they had been mounted on their usual horses. His appreciation for the intelligent, mellow-tempered, beautiful black Friesian horses increased with every mile. The horses had been trained under saddle and in harness in the mountains around Estes Park, and were completely undaunted by the difficulties presented by snowdrifts and increasing elevation.

Suddenly he reined his horse to a stop. As the others halted behind him, he stared forward, trying to make out what it was he saw against the white snowy background. He pressed his heels into the mare’s sides, urging her forward, but she refused to budge. Whatever it was, the horse seemed to be able to make it out at least as clearly as he could. Ears pricked forward, neck arched, she blew uneasily through her nostrils.

Just behind him, Heyes said, “What is it, Kid?”

“I don’t know. It looks like a man, but twice as tall. There’s a white light glowing around him.” Curry’s voice trailed off as he stared ahead. He wanted to be frightened, but he couldn’t be. “He doesn’t mean us any harm. He says he’s here to help.”

Heyes shifted uneasily in his saddle. He saw nothing and heard no one. Maybe that was because there was nothing to see. But this time he couldn’t put it down to his cousin having taken laudanum or morphine. There was no reason for Kid to be seeing things that weren’t there. Then he noticed his horse. He shot a quick look around. All seven of the horses and the mule were standing rigid, eyes and ears straining forward, attention focussed on a patch of snow in the trail just ahead of where Kid had halted. Whatever it was, clearly the animals could see it. He turned to ask his betrothed if she could see anything, but before he could decide what to say, his partner spoke again.

“He says we have to follow him. It’s important. We’re in danger here.”

Heyes still didn’t see anything; then, looking where his horse’s ears were pointed, he saw a bright golden light shining on the snow—and the sky had become overcast shortly after they left Silverton. He swallowed and looked back at Kid. “We can’t see anyone to follow. You’d better lead the way.”

Taking a deep breath, Kid followed the strange being, and the others followed Kid. They turned to the right and scrambled up the slope, going around the spot on the trail where the being had appeared. The horses slipped and slid on the snow-covered rocks and pine needles, but the footing was solid enough, and they returned to the main trail about twenty yards further on. Behind them, there was a rumble, and they turned in their saddles to see a slide of snow and rock coming down across the trail in the section they had just avoided. 

Staring ahead of them, straining to see, Curry said, “The rest of the road is fairly clear. We’ll be able to get through by evening … he’s gone.”

His hand shaking unaccountably, Heyes extracted his watch from his pocket, discovering the time to be almost 4:00 o’clock. It would be getting dark soon. The short winter twilight was already approaching. It would be good if they _could_ get down before they lost the last of the light, since the west side of the pass involved crossing a difficult talus slope. “Through to where, Kid? Ophir?” 

Kid blinked as though awakening from sleep. “Yeah. I think so.” He nudged the mare with his heel and she stepped forward unconcernedly. The others followed. 

Soon it was Heyes’s turn to take the lead, and he edged his gelding to the front, trailing his chestnut Morgan-Arabian cross-bred mare behind him at the end of her lead rope. The party soon reached the talus slope, which they crossed with care, and continued on down the side of the mountain. Then the road flattened out unexpectedly. They were able to push their horses into a canter for the remaining couple of miles between them and the tiny town of Ophir, the lights of which they could see ahead.

West side of Ophir Pass with talus slopes, © Noah Larimer Photography

They arrived in Ophir around 5:00 p.m., turning off the main road by common consent to stop at the café there. They and their horses could use a rest, no matter how anxious they were to get to Telluride. While they were waiting for the waitress to bring plates of the hot beef stew she had described, Kid walked across to the telegraph office to send a wire to Richard Bancroft, saying they’d be in Telluride between 7:00 and 7:30, coming in from the south. 

Suddenly discovering that he was hungry, Kid made short work of the plate of stew. The others ate in silence, all of them still thinking about what had happened up on the pass. Finally, Kid asked, “Didn’t anybody else see anything? I can’t get it out of my mind.”

Heyes said, “I saw a golden light on the snow. The horses sure saw something.”

“I saw a form—something that looked like a very tall man,” offered Paula. “Just that—no voice or anything else. As Heyes said, though, our horses saw it.”

Paul said quietly, “I saw pretty much what Paula saw. You were very blessed, Kid. And we all owe you our lives.”

“We owe our lives to that—whatever he was—showing me where to ride,” protested Kid. “It was nothing to do with me!”

“Except that you had the faith to follow,” said Paula softly. 

“Yeah,” agreed Heyes. “We just followed you.”

Curry shook his head. “I don’t understand, though. Why would I be the one to get that kind of—well, I suppose you could call it a vision?”

Nobody had an answer for this. After a moment, Kid continued to eat, mopping up the gravy on his plate with a slice of the fresh bread they had been served. The door to the street swung open, admitting a draught of cold air, and the telegrapher came in. Seeing the party sitting in the corner, he came over and handed Kid a yellow envelope. “Telegraph for you, Mr. Jones.”

“Thanks.” Kid quickly opened and read the message. “It’s from Richard. He’ll be waiting for us at the west end of town, to make sure there’s no trouble finding the way to his house. And … he says her fever’s mounting.” Kid swallowed the last of his food and stood up. “We’ve got to get going. If it turns out that she … if they don’t think she’s going to make it, I’ve got a wedding ring with me—I bought it in Santa Fe. If there’s no other choice, then I’ll marry her right then and there.”

“That’ll mean telling the minister your real name.” Heyes followed his cousin outside and mounted up. “Which will probably get both of us arrested.”

“Yeah, I know. But if they think she’s not going to live—Heyes, I got no choice. I have to do that for her. You don’t have to come.”

The dark-haired outlaw sighed. “I’m coming with you. We’ll just have to take things as they come.” The Wellingtons were mounted and ready by this time, and the whole party moved out into the road, increasing their speed as they left the outskirts of town. They headed west on Ophir Road, turned right onto the main road, and set out to cover the final 16 miles to Telluride, now pushing their pace as fast as their horses could manage. Within an hour and a half, mostly done at a canter, they saw the lights of Telluride ahead of them, to the right, toward the dark bulk of the San Juans. They had covered the 739 miles from Oneida, Texas in just over three nights and three days.

* * *

[1] The original road now called the Million Dollar Highway was a toll road built by Otto Mears in 1883 to connect Ouray and Ironton. Another toll road was built over Red Mountain Pass from Ironton to Silverton, and completed later by Otto Mears. This latter road had been begun in late 1881, making it available for Heyes and Curry to use.


	5. Arrival in Telluride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long, harrowing journey brings them to Telluride in time--Lillian O'More's illness has not yet reached the worst stage--but now the outlaws must grapple with the problem of the Bancrofts knowing who they are. The lawyer and his wife, for their part, have questions which must be answered.

**Telluride, Thursday, December 29th, 7:00 p.m.**

When they rode into Telluride, Richard Bancroft was waiting for them, sitting on his horse at the western edge of the town, where the main street, Colorado Avenue, narrowed and became the road going west out of the box canyon at the end of which Telluride was built. 

Kid Curry rode right up to him. “How’s Lillie?”

“Her fever seems to be rising,” replied Richard, turning his horse to lead the way as he talked. “We sent for the doctor this morning, and he gave us a draught of feverfew tincture as well as some other medications, hoping to keep her fever down. And we have paregoric for pain relief and for when the coughing starts. It’s been working well enough; that is, she’s not at a critical juncture. But she may well become worse tonight or tomorrow. She’ll need careful nursing.”

“I can help. At least I can sit with her if she needs to have someone with her. And Miss Wellington can help. You and your wife must be exhausted. I’m …” Kid hesitated. “Richard, I’m more grateful than I can say, for what you’ve done for her. And for letting me know she was ill. We got here as soon as we could.”

“Of that I’m well aware,” returned the lawyer. “You got here, in fact, sooner than anyone would ever have expected. Over seven hundred miles in less than four days. It’s a mercy from God that you were able to get here at all.” He drew rein at the junction of Colorado Avenue and Townsend Street, preparatory to turning north toward his own house. Seeing Kid about to urge his horse up the hill, he said, “Wait a moment, Jed. You can’t do anything for her by getting lost in the snow on the way to my house, and there are a couple of other things to attend to, here before we turn off the main street.”

Heyes winced at the confirmation that Bancroft knew their real names. There had been no doubt, of course, but it was still a shock to hear Kid’s given name spoken aloud. The next minute, he found himself being addressed, more formally.

“Mr. Heyes, I think that you and … if you’ll introduce me?”

“This is Paul Wellington, who’s gonna be my brother-in-law some day.”

The two men shook hands, and Bancroft continued, “I thought so. The resemblance to your sister is quite striking, Mr. Wellington. The two of you should take your horses to the livery stable and get yourselves checked into a hotel for the night. We can discuss other matters later. It’s not really necessary that all of you should come to the house this evening.”

“No, and we don’t want to burden your wife by expecting her to cook for us,” responded Heyes, with a smile. “The livery stable is three blocks further along this street, isn’t it? Once I’ve found it, I can find my way to the Auburn Hotel, where we stayed this past summer. Everything looks different, coming into town from this direction, but I’ll find it.”

“Yes, three blocks further east, on your right,” Richard assured him. “Good night to you. Miss Wellington, Jed, if you’ll come with me?”

When they reached the tall, two-storey house, Richard took his guests’ horses while they went inside, not bothering to knock at the door, as he had told them that his wife would probably be upstairs in the sick-room, and the maid was not on duty, having been sent home to attend to her mother, who was also ill. He promised to join them in Lillian’s bedroom as soon as he could.

Historic Cornell House, Telluride

Kid went directly upstairs to the bedroom where Lillian was, entering quietly and sitting down at her bedside. Hannah Bancroft looked up from where she sat in a chair by the head of the bed. “Welcome,” she murmured. “You’ll do her almost as much good as the doctor’s medicines, but we are probably in for a difficult night. Miss Wellington, we have a second spare room you can use.”

“Yes, Richard told me.” Kid slipped his wet shearling coat off and laid it to one side so he wouldn’t get the bedclothes wet.

Paula said quietly, “Mrs. Bancroft, Kid—Jed—and I can take turns sitting up with her. You should probably try to get some sleep, if the doctor thinks that her fever will go into a crisis tonight. I’m glad we got here in time to help with the nursing. You can’t do it alone.”

Half awake, Lillian murmured confusedly, “There’s a wet horse in the room.”

“No,” said Kid, “that’s only my sheepskin coat.”

“Jed!”

Kid’s sweet smile flashed out. He slipped to his knees so he could lean on the side of the bed, and pulled her gently into his arms, murmuring, “It’s all right, dearest, I’m here. I’m here.” 

The door to the stairwell was pushed open a little wider, and Richard Bancroft slipped inside. “I’ve seen to your horses. We should try to find you something to eat.”

Seeing that Kid was oblivious to this, Paula replied, “That’s not necessary. We ate an enormous supper of beef stew and fresh bread at the café in Ophir. Please don’t put yourself out. I was just saying to your wife that we can take turns sitting with Lillian, if the doctor expects her fever to rise tonight.”

“That’s what he told me,” said the lawyer. “She’ll need careful nursing through the night. We’d be more than happy to have your help, and Mr. Curry’s. Taking turns sitting up is an excellent idea.”

Lillian was crying. “No, Jed, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. You don’t understand—they _know_.” 

Richard broke in. “I tried to give you a warning in that first telegraph.” 

”Yeah,” said Kid, “I figured that.” Over his sweetheart’s head, he met the lawyer’s anxious gaze. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” 

Richard smiled and shook his head. “I was pretty sure you would. I’ll have to admit I never thought you’d manage to get here in four days, though, since there are no railroad lines yet in that part of Texas. You must be completely worn out.”

Curry shook his head. “Today was kinda slow and quiet. No fast riding except from Ophir.” He held Lillian against his chest, trying to soothe her. 

She continued crying softly, her face buried in his shoulder. “You can’t trust me now. I’m sorry, Jed, I’m sorry.”

He put his finger against her lips, shushing her gently. “Why wouldn’t I? You didn’t tell anyone. Heyes actually did tell, one time when he’d been shot in the head—and I still trust _him_. Don’t you worry about it any more.”

Finally Lillian drifted into a doze, her head still against his shoulder. He laid her down on the bed after Paula had moved the pillows out of the way, and then attempted to rise. “Richard? Could you give me a hand up? That right leg of mine has stiffened up on me. Does that sometimes when I’ve been in a funny position for too long.” He accepted the lawyer’s strong tug, pushing on the bedframe with his other hand, and rose to his feet. “Thanks.”

**Friday, December 30th**

Richard Bancroft opened his front door to a knock, just as he was finishing an early breakfast. Miss Wellington was upstairs asleep, he thought, after having sat through part of the night with Lillian. Jed Curry was with her now, after getting some sleep in the early part of the night. With their assistance, Lillian’s German neighbor, Elsa Krebel, who had been assisting his wife to nurse the invalid, could get some rest and go back to helping Susanne and Mike at the Irish Rose.

The open door revealed Hannibal Heyes, alone, standing on the doorstep brushing snow off his hat. Swinging the door wide in welcome, Richard invited him in and stepped back.

Heyes’s face, still drawn with weariness from the long days of travelling, lit up in a smile. “Good morning! I thought I’d better come over as soon as I could, to see if you need any help. And you and I’ve got things to discuss. Wellington is up, seeing to the supplies we brought with us, but he didn’t see any reason to come with me when you folks have enough to do with looking after Lillian. How is she?”

Richard motioned to seats in the front parlor. “Her fever is still quite high. She has been a little delirious, but your partner’s voice can still penetrate the fog in her mind and recall her senses. Your arrival last night was an answer to all of our prayers.”

“So she’s still in some danger?” Heyes frowned.

“Yes. We’re expecting the doctor to come again later today. Meanwhile, Jed’s sitting with her now, and there is nothing for you or me to do at present. After I inadvertently made things worse by telling her that the two of you were coming and letting slip that I knew who you really were, my wife will hardly allow me into the sick-room. Care for some coffee, Mr. Heyes? Or I think Hannah has some food left. Have you eaten?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks. No, I haven’t eaten, but I can get something later.” 

Richard walked over to the short passageway leading to the kitchen at the back of the house. “Hannah? Mr. Heyes is here, and he’s hungry. Do we have anything left over?”

His wife came in quickly, bringing a coffee pot and cup with her. Heyes rose politely as she entered. “Here’s coffee, Mr. Heyes, and I’ll make a fresh pot. There’s some sausage left, and I’ll cook up some eggs for you if you’ll tell me how you want them.”

The outlaw looked surprised. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Bancroft. It doesn’t really matter about the eggs. I like ’em any way they come.” Seeing her frown and give a tiny shake of the head, he added, “Fried eggs are fine.” At her gesture, he resumed his seat and began to sip the hot coffee.

He heard sounds in the kitchen, and recognised his lady’s voice. “Heyes is here? I’ll be happy to fry the eggs. I know how he likes them.”

“I thought Miss Wellington was still asleep,” said Richard. “She sat with Lillian the first part of the night, and then went to bed while Jed took his turn.”

“She probably figured I’d come over early,” said Heyes, “and made sure to be up when I came.” His smile apprised Richard that he was well aware of how spoiled that made him sound, but Bancroft simply chuckled.

When Paula came in, bearing plates in both hands, hot fried eggs on one and slices of toast slathered with butter on the other, Heyes took the plates from her with a word of thanks and set them down on the end table beside the settee, Richard having hastily placed a couple of sheets of newspaper there to protect the wood finish. Paula accepted a quick kiss, but then pushed her betrothed back into his seat. “You and Richard have things to talk about, and I must check on Lillian. She passed a very bad night, tossing and turning and throwing the blankets off. It helps her to hear Kid’s voice. He’s with her now. That’s after she worried that the two of you weren’t safe here, and that she had inadvertently betrayed your secret. Kid managed to soothe her and get that straightened out last night. Go ahead and enjoy your breakfast and coffee.”

“I love you,” replied Heyes softly, his eyes on her face.

“And I you, _mo chridhe_ ,” she replied. He was familiar with the Gaelic phrase—my heart—by now, as she used it with him quite often. She smiled at him, her heart in her eyes, and vanished back into the passageway.

Taking a swallow from his second cup of coffee, Richard Bancroft watched, his heart warmed by the display of affection between the couple. It reminded him of his own courting days with his wife. And it shed an entirely different light on Hannibal Heyes, the notorious outlaw, than what one might expect from the common perception of him.

Heyes looked up to find the lawyer watching him. He smiled and took a large bite of the egg he had just placed on top of one of the slices of toast, making a convenient open sandwich. His formal table manners were more than acceptable, but with no women present, and no dining table, he saw no reason why he couldn’t eat more casually.

“Are you sure you’re really Hannibal Heyes, and not just using his name?” Richard asked, with a quizzical smile.

“Yeah, I’m Hannibal Heyes. I’m engaged to marry Miss Paula Wellington. And I’m Kid Curry’s cousin and long-time partner. Anything else you want to know?” Heyes was perfectly well aware why the question had been asked. Their reputations, even though it was more than two years since they had left their old life, were very much at odds with the relatively peaceful, inoffensive pair of men with whom Richard Bancroft had grown acquainted the previous summer.

Consuming the hot food gratefully, Heyes looked across at his host. “Mr. Bancroft, I came over early because we’ve got things to discuss. We’re grateful you let us know about Lillian’s illness, and we got here as soon as we could. Kid was frantic, with us being a hundred and thirty miles from the nearest railroad, but I think we managed pretty well to get here in four days. Paula had her brother meet us in Durango with the Friesian horses—he raises them—because we knew we’d be doing some rough mountain riding, maybe in deep snow, crossing Ophir Pass.”

Bancroft nodded. “So that’s what those magnificent black horses are! I’d like to hear about your trip. I expect it will make quite a story.”

“Yeah—in fact, something happened up on the pass that was kind of strange. I’d like to get your opinion. But the question now is, what do you plan to do with us? With Kid and me, I mean? There was no way I could talk my partner out of riding straight into what might be a trap—and I couldn’t let him come without me.” He paused and smiled ruefully. “And I tried to leave Paula behind, because I knew that first ride would be hard, and, well, you can see how that worked.”

“Because she wouldn’t let _you_ come without _her_.”

“That’s about the size of it.” 

“Well, Mr. Heyes, Hannah and I talked about that, and prayed about it, and the answer is, we don’t plan to do anything with you, or to you—nothing you wouldn’t like, anyway.” 

“We appreciate that, Mr. Bancroft.” Heyes let go his breath in a long sigh, and favored Bancroft with his ready smile. “But why not? You’re an attorney. We’re wanted by the law, even though we went straight more than two years ago. You should have talked to the sheriff already—and you haven’t. Otherwise he would have been waiting at the edge of town last night with you, to arrest us.” _Or maybe he’s coming here, later today. No, Richard just said he’s not going to do anything, and I believe him. Don’t I_? He regarded the lawyer gravely, a faint uneasiness succeeding the smile in his brown eyes.

_Nothing could more clearly indicate that they are outlaws on the run_ , thought Richard. He was reminded of the time he had been walking up on the mountainside and had encountered a deer which was unable to get past him because of the rocky terrain. Richard had withdrawn slowly, cautiously, allowing the deer to go free without risking its life or limbs trying to scramble over an impassable rock fall. But for a moment, the expression in the eyes of the wild animal resembled precisely what he was seeing now—a hunted man, suspicious of every overture of friendship. He hastened to answer the question.

“My wife and I talked about what we saw this summer, starting with your partner’s baptism. That was a true, honest conversion. I know that for certain. We saw you both living honest lives and putting in lots of hard work for little pay, or simply because Miss O’More needed you to help her, for no pay at all. I even know that something caused Mr. Curry to make her a formal offer of marriage before your party left town in September. The promise ring he gave her in June would have been sufficient to indicate his intentions, but I suspect he wanted to be sure that he left her in the best possible situation with the people here, with whom she had to live and work every day.”

He paused, but Heyes only nodded.

“It was obvious that the two of you had abandoned your former profession and were living honest lives. It’s not my business, as an attorney, to put obstacles in the way of men trying to turn their lives around. And there were two other considerations. The first was that in the letter I saw in Miss O’More’s desk, from which I obtained an address for Mr. Curry, there was a veiled indication that the two of you have been offered some kind of an amnesty by the governor of Wyoming, and are working to meet its conditions. Miss O’More made reference to work that she and Miss Wellington were doing to document your whereabouts back in ’eighty.”

“Yeah, they’ve just about finished that up. Paula has a ledger of sorts. And …” Heyes hesitated, but there was nothing for it but to go on. “The amnesty offer—it’s supposed to be a secret, between us, and the governor, and the Wyoming sheriff who’s been helping us. Just so you know. What was the other thing?”

“So _that’s_ it. I saw those letters go out to Sheriff Trevors, this past summer, and wondered a little, and then after I realized who you two were, I wondered a lot more. You may rest assured that I’ll keep it in confidence. The other thing, Mr. Heyes, was what just happened—when you and Miss Wellington and Mr. Curry travelled over seven hundred miles in winter weather, over some of the roughest roads in the state, to be here. To be with Miss O’More in her illness, which could still prove fatal.”

“Kid’s betrothed to her. What did you think he would do?” demanded Heyes, somewhat indignantly.

“I thought he would do just what he has done—come as soon as he could. But there was just a chance that he, and you, might have chosen to make a different decision.”

“So Kid was right,” exclaimed Heyes, with satisfaction. “He said he thought you might have sent the warning on purpose, to see if he would decide to take the risk.” He looked the lawyer in the eye. “That’s right, isn’t it? You wanted to find out what kind of a man he really was, whether he was good enough for Lillian.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. But you’re right that I wanted to find out some things about both of you. I thought that putting a warning in that telegraph would be a good way to do it. And now I know. Kid Curry risked his life, possibly, and certainly his freedom, to come here as fast as he could, to be with his betrothed when informed she was seriously ill. And Hannibal Heyes, who’s known to be his long-time partner, so much so that you never hear one name without the other, wouldn’t allow Curry to make the journey without him, risking his own freedom in the process. And Miss Paula Wellington, if I had been in any doubt about her and how much she knows, and how much she is attached to her fiancé, wouldn’t be left behind, no matter how hard and dangerous the trip was likely to be. I think I learned all I needed to know about all three of you.” Richard leaned forward in his chair and added, earnestly, “And I want to help you, if I can.”

“We were talking about that possibility in the train on the way to Silverton,” said Heyes. “We’d like to retain you formally as our attorney. We already have an attorney—Chester Brubaker, in Junction City, New Mexico—but we could use the help of a counsellor who’s licensed to practice in Colorado, and who knows us better than Brubaker does. And it would protect you, in case it comes out later that you knew who we were and kept quiet about it. Then we could tell you everything you need to know, and it would be privileged communication. How much would you have to have for a retainer?” 

Counsellor Bancroft accepts a new client

Richard was startled. _They already have an attorney?_ “Oh, a dollar apiece will do.” Heyes held out a five-dollar gold piece. 

Richard stopped him. “Just so you understand. I have already assured you that I am not going to tell the sheriff, or anyone else, who you are. You won’t be in any danger here if I can help it. You’ve decided, on your own, that you’d like to retain me as your attorney, and are now handing me that money as a retainer.” 

Heyes nodded. “Otherwise it would be a bribe. I understand that. We’re not offering you a bribe, Mr. Bancroft.”

Gravely, the lawyer accepted the coin, stood up, walked over and opened a door into an adjoining room, which Heyes could see was fitted up as a law office, complete with shelves full of case records and a set of Colorado Revised Statutes. Bancroft opened the desk drawer, unlocked a small metal cash box, stowed the money away, relocked the box, and then dipped his pen in the ink and made a note in a ledger lying open on the desk. 

Coming back into the front parlor and shutting the door behind him, he resumed his seat. “I didn’t put your true names down in the ledger. But now there is a record of the professional relationship, if there should be any question about it later. I have quite a number of questions for you both, but obviously all of that will have to wait until Lillian is out of danger. You have to understand, Mr. Heyes—she’s almost like a daughter to my wife and me. We’re not quite of the right age to be her parents, but we have no children, and she is an orphan, and we’ve become very fond of her over the years that she has lived in Telluride. That’s why, when she fell ill, I had no hesitation in telling the doctor that we would have her carried here, where we could take care of her.”

“She’s fortunate to have you,” responded Heyes. “Kid and I—we’re orphans, too. It’s been quite an experience having first the Wellingtons and then Lillian take us in as if we were family.” He started to say more, but it was too soon. He liked Bancroft, and apparently they were going to be able to trust him, but it was still difficult for him to drop the barrier of reserve which he had spent so many years building up so carefully. Other confidences could wait. _No, that’s not quite true. There is one thing I have to tell him_. Aloud, he said, “There’s something you should know. Kid brought a wedding ring with him. If it appears Lillian might not survive, he wants to go through a ceremony of marriage with her, so he can keep his promise to marry her no matter what happens. So they can be man and wife, even if it’s only for a few hours.”

“Let us hope and pray the occasion will not arise,” Richard replied. “I can see why he would want to do that, though. I think, in some ways, it would be a beautiful thing to do. The right thing, as I’m sure Jed would think. But I am not licensed by the state to solemnize weddings. You would have to get our minister, Brother Austin, or someone else who could do that. Then you would have to tell him your true names, or at least Jed would. And that might lead to difficulties.”

“Yeah, I told him it was likely to get us both arrested. All he would say was that it was something he had to do, if she was gonna die. He said I didn’t have to come along. After that, of course, what could I say? I guess, if we get arrested, well, that’s the way things work out sometimes, isn’t it?” He smiled at the lawyer, with a phlegmatic gesture of his hands.

“If it becomes necessary to give the minister Jed’s real name, I think it would still be possible to avoid giving him yours—and without both of your names together, there might be no danger. Especially since it is he who would be getting married and not you. Curry is not that unusual a name.”

“Whereas Heyes is, especially Hannibal Heyes. My mother thought it would be a wonderful idea to name me after the place where I was born, and that was Hannibal, Missouri.” Heyes smiled deprecatingly. “Thanks, Mr. Bancroft. Maybe we could pull it off, with your help. And maybe it won’t be necessary.”

**Lillian’s room, the same morning**

Seated in a straight-backed chair in the Bancrofts’ larger spare room, Kid Curry was watching his beloved Lillian with no little anxiety on her behalf. She had been sleeping, but fitfully, sometimes half awake and sometimes dozing. Her cheekbones were flushed with the fever of her illness. _Lord, we need Your help,_ Kid said silently in prayer. _Ain’t nothing anybody can do for the grippe. And there’s more ‘n’ a hundred or so folks here who are down with it, not just her. I don’t know what we can do, but I know You can …_

“Jed?” Lillian’s voice broke into his thoughts. “It really _is_ you … I thought I was dreaming again.”

“I’m right here, Lil. I ain’t going anywhere.” He took her hand gently in his. It felt so warm.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced toward the door. “Is … Are you…?”

“Everything’s fine. Don’t you worry about us. We’re all fine. Heyes is having some kind of discussion with Richard, fillin’ him on what we’ve been up to lately.”

“Richard,” she echoed, and sighed heavily, tears suddenly welling in her hazel-green eyes. “Jed, I promise—I didn’t tell him, I didn’t tell anyone.”

“’Course you didn’t. I never thought you did. You couldn’t know something like this would happen, Lil. _Or_ that Richard would be trying to find out where to get in touch with me, so he’d try to find my last letter to you, or the Christmas card.”

She smiled then, her eyes softening. “It’s a lovely card, darling. But— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, and what I did was so _silly_ … like a schoolgirl of fourteen,” she began.

Kid frowned. What was she talking about? A few of the things she had said the night before hadn’t made much sense. Was this something like that too? “What do you mean? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, it wasn’t wrong in itself,” she explained, and coughed a little. He gave her the cup from the nightstand, filled with lemon water, and she sipped from it to ease her throat. But her face had grown red, not with fever, but embarrassment. “See, well, it’s a thing girls do … I—I’d been practising writing out my name, you see, what it will be some day. When it’s _your_ name. Mrs. Jedidiah Curry, Lillian Rachel Curry, L. R. Curry…. I’m sorry, dearest, I never meant to leave that paper lying about in my desk. I should have put it in the fire.”

Kid felt his own face grow warm as well. _She’s not the only one blushing … now it’s me doing it too._ “It’s like I said, Lillie. How would you know somebody would be in your desk? It’s not like the cat gets in there and reads your private correspondence, or Finn.” He grinned, and she giggled a little along with him. “And I’m glad you’re thinking about us in the future one day.” _She’s got more faith in the governor keepin’ his word to us than I do, these days._

Suddenly, Lillian started to sit up, with a look of consternation. “Finn!” she exclaimed, agitated. “No one’s there to let him out, or feed him, or Patches …”

He put a hand gently on her shoulder. “Just take it easy. They’re all fine. Elsa’s been going to your house every day to feed Patches, but Paula will be staying there now. She’ll see to all that. And the Doyles took Finn home with them. Mike’s been taking him to the general store with him during the day, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh. Oh, all right.” She lay back into the pillow, exhausted. “I think I’ll sleep now, Jed, if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind me. Hannah’s taking good care of us.” Kid watched with her a while until she drifted once more into sleep, then he turned down the lamp and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Presently he came downstairs and found the sitting room unoccupied. He could hear Heyes’s and Bancroft’s voices talking quietly in the lawyer’s study, and there were sounds of activity in the kitchen, so he headed in there in hopes of finding some coffee. He had slept badly, what with worrying about Lillian, so he would welcome a cup or two. To his pleasure, he could hear the faint rattle of the glass knob of the percolator on the stove.

“Ah, there you are, Thaddeus …” Hannah Bancroft began, and then stopped, hesitant, not sure what she should now call the young man she knew as Thaddeus Jones. “I mean, Mr. …”

“My name’s Jedidiah, Mrs. Bancroft. You can call me Jed if you’d like to, but most folks who know me just call me Kid.” He smiled. “Mr. Curry’s my late pa. Nobody calls _me_ that except lawmen.”

The older woman nodded, absorbing that. It was indeed true, then, and this affable young man really was a notorious outlaw. To cover the awkwardness of the moment, she turned toward the stove and picked up the graniteware coffee pot from the stove top. “I dare say you’d like some coffee about now.”

Kid smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am, I surely would.”

She gestured to him to take a seat at the kitchen table, and took down two cups from the cupboard, one for him and one for herself. Pouring the two cups of coffee, she then placed a sugar bowl and cream pitcher on the table along with a teaspoon in a small saucer. Finally, she sat down across the table from him. “How is she now?”

“Sleeping quiet, at least when I left.”

“Did she talk to you about, well, about Richard finding her letters?”

Kid nodded. “Yeah, she did. I told her it wasn’t her fault—she couldn’t have known something like this would happen, and he’d have had to try to find out where I was.”

Hannah nodded, satisfied, as she stirred a lump of sugar into her coffee cup. “She’s been fretting about that ever since Richard let slip he’d got in touch with you. Thinking you wouldn’t trust her any more and never come back.” She shook her head, exasperated, as the pale sunlight from the window shone on the few graying strands in her dark hair. “Lord knows he’s a brilliant man—top of his class in law school— but there are times he doesn’t have a lick of sense. He shouldn’t have told her that, but he thought it would ease her mind, see, knowing you were coming. All that did was make her fearful for you, the poor dear.”

Kid sighed. “I’m very sorry about that, ma’am. I did my best to get her calmed down about that last night, but she wanted to tell me this morning how it happened.” He sipped at the strong coffee and went on. “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am, could you tell me what happened with Lillie, I mean when she took sick? The telegraph didn’t say anything about that.”

“Well, I can tell you what I know, but it’s only part of it. And you can call me Hannah, by the way.” The Kid nodded, and she continued. “We had her here to Christmas dinner, as we always do, and Richard’s law clerk, and a few others who haven’t other family here. So there were eight of us to dinner. And after dinner, we sang some carols around the piano and then played a few parlor games. Lillie didn’t sing as much and said her voice was tired since they’ve been so busy at the café the days before Christmas. I suppose she was on the verge of it then, but we didn’t think anything of it, nor did she. About half-past nine or so, everybody left and Charles, the clerk, escorted her home. She seemed all right then.”

Kid nodded. “Then what happened?”

“I don’t know everything, mind, as I wasn’t there. But, from talking to Susanne Doyle, this is what we could piece together.” It almost sounded as if she were talking about assembling a quilt. “They weren’t especially busy, as it was the day after Christmas and a Monday morning. But, about eleven or so, after breakfast and before the lunch custom arrived, Lillie said she needed some fresh air and it was very stuffy in there, so she offered to take the morning bank bag and bring back some more change.”

“Uh-oh,” said Kid. “She already had the fever then.”

“Yes. The girls and Susanne didn’t think anything of it, and Lillie took the deposit bag and went on her way. She walked instead of driving the cart.” Hannah got up from the table and bustled about, then placed on the table a small plate with two slices of bread and butter to accompany the coffee. “This is the part we aren’t sure of. Lillie never did get to the bank—none of the tellers saw her come in. Sammy Delaney—he delivers telegraphs for the Western Union—says he saw her come into the post office, but she didn’t come up to the counter. She just stood there looking bewildered, as if she’d forgotten something. He said she almost looked as if she was lost. She left a few minutes later.

“Back at the café, Susanne was getting worried. Lillian didn’t come back for nearly an hour, and the bank is only six blocks away. But she figured that maybe she’d had to wait a long time, since it was Monday morning. She says that when Lillie came back, she still didn’t seem quite like herself, and her shoes and her hem were all wet with snow. And she still was clutching the bank bag in her hands, exactly the way she left.”

“So she was just wandering around out there, in a fog. Like she was lost or something.” _Oh, Lord … poor Lillie._

“Exactly. But it must have looked like she was just doing errands. I suppose no one realized she didn’t know where she was going.”

“Then what happened?”

“That much we know. Susanne asked her about the bank deposit, and Lillian said she didn’t know anything about it. That worried everyone, and they were about to send Louisa for the doctor. Then she just collapsed.”

“And _then_ they sent for the doctor.”

“Yes, and put up the Closed sign on the door, and sent Molly Quinn—the young lady with the red hair—here to get me and then Richard at his office.”

Kid shook his head, whistling softly. “Poor Lil,” he said, this time aloud. “Of course, she walks around town all the time, so nobody thought anything was wrong.”

“If she had stopped to talk with anyone, they would have noticed she was ill, I think. But apparently she didn’t.” Hannah picked up the now-empty plate, set it on the sideboard, and returned to her chair. “If you don’t mind, Thaddeus—Jed,” she began, “there are some things I’d like to ask you to explain to me.”

_I was kind of expecting that._ He winced inwardly, but there was nothing for it. “Yes, ma’am?”

“How long has Lillian known who you are?” Her tone was not hostile, but sterner than it had been a few minutes earlier, rather like a school-ma’am admonishing a wayward pupil. “I very much hope it was before you made her the offer of marriage—that you didn’t make her that proposal as Thaddeus Jones.”

Kid shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he stated firmly. “She’s known all along who I am—who we both are. Since late last September. And it wasn’t me who told her, it was Heyes. She made him come clean about it.”

Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise. “Over a year? And what do you mean, she _made_ him?”

“It’s a long story, Mrs. Bancroft. But we ended up here in Telluride because my past had kinda caught up to me. A man who was the leader of the first gang I rode with escaped from prison and was hunting for all the rest of the gang, trying to find out what happened to the nineteen thousand dollars they got away with from a bank in Garden City, Kansas, back in 1869. You know, we told you in the summer how I got lost in that abandoned mine, and Heyes managed to find me, with Lillie’s help?”

“Yes?”

“Well, that wasn’t the whole story. I was lost in there, all right— because that old gang leader got the drop on me and dragged me in there tied up like a turkey, to make me tell where all that money went to. Only I didn’t know, because I never saw a dime of it. I was outside with the horses. When the shooting started, I took the fastest horse, turned the rest loose, and lit out of there like a tornado was after me. I didn’t mind being in on a bank robbery, but I had no plans to get hanged for a murder.”

Hannah almost had to laugh. “No, I suppose not.”

“Back then was when folks started calling me Kid, since I really _was_ a kid at the time, just seventeen. Anyway, Jim Caldwell didn’t start the shooting, someone else shot at them first, so the jury brought it in as manslaughter instead of murder, and sent him up for that and armed robbery. So he, along with some of the boys with him now, grabbed me and meant to get the information out of me any way they could.

“When Heyes realized I was gone and he couldn’t find me, he came to see Lillian. She was kind of the only friend we had here, and she already knew about the gang leader and the Garden City holdup because we’d told her. See, when we got here, we’d been running flat out for a couple hundred miles, from just outside Pueblo, trying to lose Caldwell and his gang. After I disappeared, Heyes begged her to help him find me. Well, with a couple things he had let slip and some things she’d overheard, she had started to put it together. But she would only help him if he levelled with her about who we really were. He did, and she helped him find me, and probably saved my life.” Kid finished the cup of coffee and set the cup down in its saucer, looking Hannah Bancroft squarely in the eye. “So when I gave Lillie the promise ring back in June, and the engagement ring in September, she knew who she was saying yes to. She had her eyes wide open, Mrs. Bancroft. No tricks. I wouldn’t do that to her, to the lady I love.”

“So she’s been keeping your secret all this time, all alone.” _What a strain it must have been on her,_ thought the lawyer’s wife, but she decided not to say it aloud.


	6. The Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lillian O'More's illness reaches a critical stage, and Hannibal Heyes is able to reassure his partner about their new lawyer's intentions.

**Telluride, Friday, December 30th, mid-morning**

Richard and Heyes heard footsteps swiftly descending the stairs, and looked up to see Miss Wellington coming down hastily. She walked right up to her betrothed. “Heyes, come with me. They’re going to need help. She’s delirious, and now Kid is having trouble getting her to recognize his voice.”

Heyes had come to his feet in a bound when she first spoke his name, and now went quickly to the foot of the stairs without saying another word.

The master of the house was on his feet as well. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Your wife didn’t ask for you, but she certainly didn’t say you couldn’t come.”

The three of them mounted the stairs in a group, Miss Wellington ahead and the two men following. “Your fiancée calls you Heyes?” asked Richard.

“Well, yeah. Everybody does, really, with my given name bein’ so awkward, I guess you could say. I wish you would, too—at least stop calling me Mr. Heyes, like I’m a stranger. Of course, around folks who knew us during the summer, you’d better remember to say Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones.”

“Such as the head teller at the bank?” Heedless of the circumstances, the lawyer started to chuckle. “I’m sorry, but it’s just occurred to me that we paid a bank robber—”

“Former bank robber,” corrected Heyes.

“That’s right—to audit our bank’s books for errors or fraud, and you did a very good job. You saved us a possible fine from the state bank examiners, if they had found that error before you did.”

“Well, like you said, you were paying me,” replied the outlaw. “And I’m good with figures. I know more about banks than just robbing ’em.”

“Shh.” Hannah Bancroft came to the door of the sick-room, quietly ushering Miss Wellington and her fiancé in, and directing her husband to fetch the bottle of paregoric[1] which the doctor had left with them.

“I’ll do that,” said Richard, “but then perhaps I’d better fetch the doctor.” His eyes were on the bed, where Miss O’More lay tossing and moaning. She flung off the blankets, and Kid Curry quietly replaced them, pulling up the sheets around her shoulders and taking her hands in his to try to calm her.

“Yes, if you would, but he may not be able to come right away,” his wife said practically. “We’ll do what we can here.”

“I think there are too many of us in the room,” said Paula. “Hannah, Heyes and Kid and I could probably manage by ourselves. Perhaps if you could bring some lavender water to bathe her forehead …”

“I’ll do that. It’s only that one feels so helpless at this stage.” The lawyer’s wife left the room, and they could hear her footsteps on the stairs.

“Kid,” said Heyes. “Maybe you should try to get some rest as well. Paula and I can sit with her for a while. What if she wakes, later, and asks for you, and you’re too tired to stay awake?”

“Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t leave her if I thought she was still paying attention to my voice, but about half an hour ago, that kinda stopped working. I’ll try to get some rest. But you have to promise you’ll come get me if she wakes and asks for me, or if she takes a turn for the worse.”

“I promise. And I told Bancroft about the wedding ring, and what you wanted to do if it became necessary. He said he’d help see it done if need be.”

“Thanks.” Kid’s calm suddenly wavered, and he knelt by the sufferer’s bedside, tears on his lashes. “Lord, please—let her live. Please heal her, bring her through this …”

“Amen,” murmured Paula, “and give Jed peace, Lord—Your peace, as you promised.”

Muttering something inarticulate which might have been taken as a prayer, Heyes helped his partner regain his feet, and escorted him to the door, pointing out the second spare bedroom that the Bancrofts had prepared for him. Without further protest, Kid went. 

Heyes and his betrothed settled down, one on either side of Lillian’s bed, to wait, or to sponge her face or replace the blankets as necessary. Her hand, Heyes noticed, was hot and dry to the touch, but she had moaned twice already that she was cold. That wasn’t a good sign. A few minutes later, he helped to steady Lillian against his shoulder when Mrs. Bancroft returned and coaxed her to open her mouth for a spoonful of the feverfew mixture, then laid her back down. Paula quietly replaced the blankets, and began to lave Lillian’s face with the lavender water which their hostess had also brought. Seeing that everything was as well as could be managed, Mrs. Bancroft put more wood on the fire and left them alone.

“I couldn’t stay to listen to what you and Mr. Bancroft were talking about,” began Paula. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”

“You mean, is he going to have us arrested?” answered Heyes. “I don’t think so. He accepted a retainer fee, and did his best to explain why he and his wife didn’t want to turn us in. They discussed it—all those things they knew about us this summer that were good, and then Kid’s baptism, and finally, he said they were both impressed when we risked everything and came more than seven hundred miles just so Kid could be with Lillian when she was dangerously ill. Well, of course, he’d want to be with her—but if you look at it from a lawyer’s point of view, that isn’t something you expect from an outlaw who’s wanted dead or alive. I guess he figured guys like us would be looking out for themselves and nobody else. Suppose he’s right.” He smiled at her tenderly. “He was even impressed that you wanted to be with me enough that you wouldn’t be left behind. I told him I tried to make you stay in Texas.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, and that’s not why I came along, but you see, when a lady whom he knows to be an upright, moral, and fairly sensible person does that in order to be with her betrothed, it tells him something about the character of the man to whom she is engaged.”

“That you wouldn’t stay loyal to a man who was a no-good bum, you mean?”

“Rather that sort of thing, yes.”

Heyes swallowed hard. “I hope I can live up to that.”

“I know you can—or I wouldn’t love you as much as I do. It’s not as if you have to become someone you are not.” She lifted the cloth from Lillian’s forehead, added a dollop of the paregoric and a few more drops of the tincture of lavender to the bowl of water beside her, wrung the cloth out in the mixture, and replaced it. “Ellen taught me to do that. The camphor and alcohol in the paregoric will help to draw the heat from her skin. Here, take another wet cloth and wipe her wrist with it. I’ll do the same on this side.”

As the sun rose higher in the sky, more light came into the sick-room through the open door. About three hours after Heyes and Paula had begun their vigil, the sunlight was obscured in the doorway and they looked up to see Kid Curry quietly entering the room.

“Did you get some sleep?” asked Heyes.

“Yeah. I feel pretty good. How is she?”

“Still quite feverish, but she’s been asleep for a while. Not very restful sleep, but anything will help,” replied Paula.

Heyes had risen to allow his partner to take his place at Lillian’s bedside. Paula looked up. “Heyes, would you pull those draperies back? As long as we can keep the sun off her face, I think it might help her—unless she has a severe head-ache, that is. Try it, will you?”

Obediently Heyes pulled the draw cord, admitting sunlight into the room. The golden beams fell across the bed and it seemed to the watchers that Lillian’s face was not as flushed as it had been. “That’s far enough,” said Kid. “Otherwise the sun will be in her eyes.” _When she opens them again_ , he added to himself. _If she does. No, I won’t think about that._ “You two could probably take a break now. I’m good for a stretch.”

Heyes nodded, and he and his fiancée left the room.

Curry’s voice had penetrated their patient’s half-conscious state. She stirred and awakened. “Jed?” She looked at him anxiously. 

“I’m right here. Paula and Heyes needed to get some rest, so I’m keeping an eye on you for a while.”

“No, I’m still dreaming,” she muttered. “You can’t be here. You’re in Texas." 

Kid took her hand in both of his. “It’s no dream. I’ve got you.”

“Last night—I thought it was last night—I woke up and thought it had been a strange dream, that you were here.” She smiled and clung to his hands. “But then I saw your hat and gloves on the dresser, and I knew it was true.”

_Yeah, I thought that might happen_. _Glad I left them there, in plain sight_. “That’s why I left them there,” he said gently. “So you’d know I—we—came.”

“But I don’t understand … how? How did you ever do it? There’s no rail line here from where you were in Texas. I know there isn’t.”

“Well, it did take some doing. We kinda had to improvise a little, you could say. Paula’s brother was the one who made it all work out.” _I’m not gonna tell her what happened on Ophir Pass yet. It can wait until she’s better. If this fever breaks._

“Paula’s brother?”

“Yep. He met us in Durango and ordered up a special train for us.”

“My word!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad!” Her energy spent, she fell silent.

Lillian dozed for a time, her hand still resting in Kid’s. The sound of Heyes and Paula re-entering the room disturbed her and she gripped Kid’s hands suddenly. “You can’t be here, now that Richard knows who you are. Can’t ever come back …” Her voice trailed away into incoherent murmurs.

“Shhh, now. It’s all right.” Kid tried to soothe her.

Heyes hesitated—this probably wasn’t the right time to bring this up, but Kid needed to know. And maybe his voice would reassure Lillian, too. “Kid, I talked to Mr. Bancroft about that. He told me we’re not in any danger here if he could prevent it, and said he wanted to help us. I took that to be an offer of his professional services, you know, like we talked about on the way to Silverton, that retaining him would be the only way to protect him if he knows who we are and decides not to say anything. So I gave him five dollars for a retainer, and he wrote it down in his ledger and everything. We now officially have two attorneys.”

Kid was gently rubbing Lillian’s hand between his, using the wet cloth to cool her wrist, as Paula had begun to do again on the other side. “That’s good, Heyes. I know we got a lot more to talk about with him—or you do, anyway—but I’m glad that’s settled. And now you can stop worryin’ he means to turn us in. He wouldn’t have taken the money if he was gonna do that.”

“No, that’s true enough.”

Lillian was silent. She seemed to be wakeful; perhaps she had been listening to Heyes’s matter-of-fact explanation, though Kid wondered how much she could take in. “Lil, would you drink some lemonade?”

“Lemonade? Oh … yes, all right.”

Heyes poured about half a glass from the pitcher which Mrs. Bancroft had brought earlier, having made lemonade from the lemons they had brought with them from Texas, and held it out to Kid, who put the glass to her mouth while Heyes supported her. She took a couple of swallows and turned her head away. “So thirsty. I thought Jed was here.”

“I’m here. Have another swallow.” With coaxing and endearments, he managed to get her to empty the glass. Heyes laid her back down after Paula had turned the pillow so that the cooler side would be uppermost.

Kid looked up and grinned at his partner. “You know, with your experience nursin’ me that time we got snowed in up in the mountains, and Paula’s experience nursing you when _you_ came down with the grippe, the three of us make a pretty good team.”

“It wouldn’t work without you here, Kid. Without her reacting to your voice, I doubt Heyes and I could keep her quiet.”

Two or three times more, they managed to get some lemonade into their patient. Hannah Bancroft came to check on them, relating that she had managed to get a short nap herself and that her husband had returned with the news that the doctor would come as soon as he could, but it was likely to be later in the morning, or even early afternoon. So many others in the town were ill, and although Dr. Hoogendyk was not the only physician, he was still facing vastly increased demands on his time. And there were others even sicker than Lillian was.

Just as Hannah returned for the second time, with an offer to bring more lemonade, Paula gave an exclamation. “Heyes, Kid, look! She’s perspiring! Praise God, the fever’s broken!”

Hannah vanished, returning quickly with an armful of blankets. “She’ll need these to keep her from getting a chill. We’ll change the bedclothes later, after she’s had her sleep out.”

The two men carefully stripped off the top layer of bedding and replaced it with clean dry blankets. Lillian, breathing easily and deeply, slept through the disturbance, oblivious to their ministrations.

“I’m going to cook up some lunch for the three of you,” said Hannah, “and then I’ll watch her while you eat. She won’t need constant care now, and she should sleep for several hours before waking up and asking for you, Mr. Curry—ah—Jed, or anyone else. After you eat would be a good time for you to get some rest. You also, Miss Wellington.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Heyes, “and I’ll watch with her while they get some sleep. Unlike the rest of you, I got a good night’s sleep at the hotel last night.”

This program was followed. When Richard Bancroft ventured upstairs two hours later, all four bedrooms were occupied by peacefully sleeping forms. He looked at Heyes enquiringly. 

“Lillian’s asleep. Her head is cool. She’s warm enough under those blankets, and I just fed the fire. I think everybody else is sound asleep, including your wife. We told her to get some sleep herself after she was kind enough to give us lunch.”

“What about you? I could sit with Miss O’More for a while.”

“I’m fine. I slept well last night. I think I’d better be here, if she wakes while Kid is still lying down. If she sees me, she’ll know he’s here, even if she can’t see him. And he left his hat and gloves over there for her to see. He said that worked to reassure her when she woke up during the night.”

Richard dropped to one knee beside the bed and bowed his head, praying silently for a few minutes. Then he rose and went to the door. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Can I get you anything to read?”

“To read? Sure. A novel, whatever you’ve got. Those books by that French author that Lillian sent to Kid in the spring—those are good. I don’t know if you have any of his.”

“Jules Verne? Certainly I do. I’ll bring one to you.” Richard paused. “I’ve got another book you might like, about a gang of outlaws in seventeenth-century England. They weren’t as well behaved as you and your partner were; in fact, they seemed to be a pretty nasty bunch, but it’s a good story, written about ten years ago. _Lorna Doone_ , by R. D. Blackmore.”

“I’ve heard of that. Haven’t read it yet. I didn’t know it was about outlaws, though. You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, there really are outlaws in it. I’ll bring it along with Verne’s _In Search of the Castaways_.” He left the room, leaving Heyes chuckling. _And this all started with that Saturday night square dance at the school house_ , Richard mused as he descended the stairs. _A lot has happened in 15 months. The Lord is good._

*** *** *** 

Over supper at the Rose, with help from Heyes and Paula, Kid told the Bancrofts what had happened up on Ophir Pass. 

A strange look on his face, Richard asked if they knew what time of day that had happened.

“Well, I had just glanced at my watch,” Heyes explained, “to see how long ‘by evening’ might be, after the angel, or whatever it was, told Kid we’d be in by evening. It was about four o’clock when we started goin’ down on the west side of the pass. Why?”

“To answer that, I have to go back to Wednesday night. I told those present at the prayer meeting on Wednesday night that Miss O’More’s fiancé, his partner, and his partner’s fiancé were coming in from Texas to be with her, and that their route lay across Ophir Pass. We all prayed for journey mercies for you at that time, and promised to continue to do so throughout the following day, when we knew you’d be coming over the most difficult part of the trail. 

“On Thursday, the ten of us, at our separate homes and businesses, each got a strong indication from the Lord that we should get together. Everybody turned up here to see me. That was about three fifteen or so. Pastor Austin came, too—everybody who had been at the prayer meeting the night before. We all prayed fervently for your party, and didn’t feel free to stop praying until about four o’clock. At that time, we suddenly felt a—a relief, I suppose you could call it, and the pressure to keep praying stopped. And now, Hannah and I, at least, know what it was about. I don’t think any of us have ever been blessed to be part of a miraculous intervention from God before—I know she and I haven’t.”

There was a long silence. Paula nodded thoughtfully. Heyes and Kid looked at each other.

Heyes noticed that his partner simply looked bemused. He was not sure, himself, what he thought. He knew what he felt, though. He was, quite frankly, terrified. He concealed his reaction to the best of his ability with one of his deceptive facial expressions, and the smile that did not quite reach his eyes, but he realized that Kid knew the truth. Probably Paula did as well—she knew him well enough by now to see through any attempt to deceive. He dropped his eyes to his plate and expended a great deal of attention on the slice of apple pie that he had been brought, made with dried apples from the summer, but still excellent.

“Jed,” said Richard, breaking the silence, “would you come to church this Sunday and tell that story? The prayer group would be happy to know why God called them together, and what God allowed their prayers to accomplish. I think it would be a blessing to every one.” 

Somewhat nervously, Kid replied, “Well, I don’t mind being shot at, particularly—at least, I’m not afraid of it—but getting up in front of a group of people in a church meeting is somethin’ else again. But, all right, I’ll do it.” He turned to the others. “That’s if you two will help.” As the door to the dining area swung open for a late customer, he looked up to see Paul Wellington coming in, and lifted a hand. Paul pulled up a chair and joined them, and Kid explained briefly what they had been talking about. “And you could help explain, too, on Sunday.”

“If I can help, certainly. But none of the people here know me,” Paul demurred.

“They know me, though,” his sister said, “and you’ll be welcome in consequence.”

“I’ll ask them to arrange the chairs as they do for a small prayer meeting—that is, in a loose circle—so that no one will have to stand up,” suggested Richard. “We don’t want to put you on the spot, Jed, but I think the congregation would like to know.” 

Everyone except Wellington, who had yet to get supper, returned to the Bancrofts’ house. Kid had to check on Lillian and retrieve his horse, and Heyes had to escort Paula back, as she planned to spend the night there. In the front parlor, while they waited for Kid and their hosts to join them, Paula said quietly, “Heyes, what’s the matter?”

Heyes opened his mouth, recollected that he had promised not to prevaricate in response to that question, and shut it again without speaking. Nor was there any use in asking how she knew. He sighed and obliged. “That story of Richard’s. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“I have, once. In Scotland—a girl we knew who was sweet on my brother. She and her mother told us about something that had happened when she was just a young girl. The mother didn’t know what kind of danger her daughter was in, but she felt the command to pray at a specific time, and keep praying, until suddenly there was no further need. It turned out her daughter had been out riding on the hill, bare-backed, you know, on a half-broken hill pony, and there was a minor accident which could very easily have been not so minor. Fionnuala could have been killed.”[2]

“So you’re used to this kind of thing.”

“I shouldn’t say that. No one ever becomes accustomed to hearing stories of God doing miracles in our lives.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not the miracle—I was there, I saw it, though I didn’t see as much as you did—I know God saved our lives, and somehow, He did it by letting Kid see … whatever it was.”

“An angel, I believe.”

He gave her a long look. “All right, say it was an angel. That might explain why I didn’t see it. But it’s not that. It’s what Richard said, about the praying, and how it was just at the right time. I don’t understand. What does that mean?” He got up and paced across the room, then resumed his seat beside her. “It’s obvious, at least I guess it is, that God did it—both what happened to us, and what happened with Richard and the prayer group—but _why_?”

“I’m not certain I understand what you’re asking.”

“I can see why God sent the angel to us, to lead us around the dangerous part of the trail, to avoid the path of the slide. But why would He tell those folks to pray? Can’t He do things like that without telling folks to pray? I don’t get it.”

Her face cleared. “Oh, I see. Yes, that puzzles many of us. Of course the Lord can do anything He wishes. He doesn’t need our prayers, either to help Him or remind Him. But the Bible is full of stories where people were encouraged to pray, or they were shown that their prayers were important to God, or they were told that they were taking part in a spiritual battle of some kind, just by praying. I don’t quite understand it, but it seems that God uses our prayers to accomplish His purposes, even though He could do everything by Himself if He desired it. He likes to be asked[3], and He likes to involve us in His actions, and … I suppose He wishes to remind us that we are all one family, as a body of believers, and what affects one affects all.” She looked at her betrothed and shook her head. “It’s not that easy to explain. I only know it happens, and it’s in the Bible, as I said.”

Her explanation, while quite lucid, did nothing to calm Heyes’s feeling of dread, almost of impending doom—rather, it increased his unease. If that was true, then every time anybody said they’d be praying for him and his partner—and there had been several friends who had told them that, over the years since they’d gone straight—it meant that they were besieging Heaven on behalf of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, begging for something to happen. And now he understood that God _wanted_ to be asked, that He even _told_ people to pray, and that—Heyes swallowed unhappily—God would act on what was asked for. He would even do miracles, because the believers, the family of God, had asked Him to. Heyes could see where that was leading. Kid had already been snared. He had no need to ask what was likely to happen next, and to whom.

For her part, Paula had a good idea, now, what was bothering him. She was distressed for him, but there was really nothing she could say. This had been inevitable, she thought, ever since she had agreed to marry him. He could not associate with her and Lillian and other Christians at such close quarters without being made to face what God was doing in his life. Almost, to spare him the pain, she would have been willing to wish that she had never met him, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say that, or even to think it. She put her hand on his where it lay on his knee, offering what comfort she could. 

* * *

[1] Paregoric, or camphorated tincture of opium, also known as _tinctura opii camphorata_ , is a traditional patent remedy known for its antidiarrheal, antitussive, and analgesic properties. It is a 4% opium tincture in which there is also benzoic acid, camphor, and anise oil.

[2] This anecdote is based closely on a true incident in the life of the author.

[3] This phrase is borrowed from _The Magician’s Nephew_ , by C. S. Lewis.


	7. The Catalogue of Crime, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before taking the responsibility of representing his new clients, Counsellor Bancroft must know what crimes they have committed since going straight. Lillian O'More's health is improved enough to allow her to leave her room.

**Saturday, December 31st**

The outlaws sat in the Bancrofts’ front parlor, drinking coffee and chatting easily with their host. 

“Speaking of telling me about yourself, Mr. Curry,” Richard said at last. “I …”

Kid interrupted. “Make it Kid, or Jed, or even Thaddeus. Everybody—except Lillian—calls me Kid. Except at church tomorrow—there it had better be Thaddeus.” 

Richard smiled. “That’ll take some getting used to, Jed. In the summer, when Hannah and I asked you all of those questions about your background, the day after you gave Lillian that promise ring, you gave us a lot of information about yourself—and now it turns out that there’s a whole lot you didn’t say. How much of what you said was true?”

“All of it,” Kid replied. “I just left out our real names, and what Heyes and I were doing for a living after we found each other again. You’re the first person, other than Lillian, and Paula, and Paula’s brother, who I’ve told about that stuff. Most times, I don’t talk about it.”

“I believe you. I was just wondering what might have been left out.”

“Probably quite a bit,” replied Kid. “But I didn’t tell you any lies.”

The lawyer looked from one to the other. “We need to talk about your legal situation. We can’t cover everything this morning, but we can certainly make a start. When did the governor of Wyoming make that offer to you about an amnesty? Did you actually talk to him?”

“October of ’seventy-nine,” said Heyes readily. “We didn’t talk to him, but a good friend of ours who’s now a sheriff—name of Lom Trevors, used to ride with me back in about ’seventy-five—he went to Cheyenne and talked to Governor Hoyt, the same man who’s governor now. What he brought back was a promise—he said we’d been granted ‘provisional amnesty’. First we had to prove we deserved it, Lom said. We had to go straight, and stay out of trouble for a while, but in the meantime we’re still wanted. Of course it wasn’t exactly what we were hoping for, but Lom told us the offer was straight and the governor was on the level, so we agreed to the conditions.”

“How long were you supposed to wait?”

“About a year, Lom said. He wasn’t specific.”

“And it’s already been two years,” said Richard, frowning. “You need to put pressure on the governor.”

“Not a whole lot we can do about that,” said Heyes.

“No, but a lawyer could do a great deal on your behalf. You said you had another attorney, in New Mexico Territory?”

“Yeah, Chester Brubaker. And the judge in the same town, Judge Hanley—he knows who we are, and knows about the amnesty.”

Richard made notes on a pad of paper balanced on his knee, then looked up. “Has either of you ever signed your name to any legal documents using your aliases? Employment contracts, that kind of thing?”

“Yes, we have. Not often, but sometimes we couldn’t avoid it. And then there are the hotel registers.”

“Then I shall have to draw up documents proving that you really are Hannibal Heyes and Jedidiah Curry, and that you have legally used the aliases of Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. Miss Wellington mentioned something about your marrying into a partnership in the ranch that she and her brother own.”

“Yeah,” agreed Heyes, “but we haven’t discussed the details.”

“I must say,” said Bancroft with enthusiasm, “knowing the two of you is going to develop into a very lucrative situation. All those …” 

He broke off, dismayed, as the outlaws exchanged a quick glance, then Kid gave a sigh and looked at his boots, a discouraged look on his face—almost a sad look, Richard thought. The smile had vanished from Heyes’s expression and he was looking resigned. The lawyer looked from one to the other. “What is it? What did I say?”

Kid said nothing. After a moment, Heyes responded, “Usually, when somebody looks at the two of us and starts talking about how rich he’s gonna be, he’s thinking of the rewards on our heads.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not going to turn you in for the reward! Neither is anybody else in this house—or in this town, if I have anything to say about it. I’m sorry—it didn’t occur to me how you’d take that. Jed, I thought you knew me better.”

“I thought so, too,” replied Kid. “But you are a lawyer. And you’re a Christian—you could have thought it over and decided it was your Christian duty not to shield a pair of wanted outlaws, whether you took the reward or not.” He met Richard’s eyes, his own very serious. “You gotta admit it’s a possibility, even though I had Heyes here convinced we could trust you.”

“And you can,” said Richard warmly. “There’s one reason, besides what I’ve already told you, that I wouldn’t turn you in, and that’s because you’re both clients of mine. I wouldn’t get very much business if it became known that a wanted man who needed an attorney owed his capture to me. In some cases, I’ve recommended that a client of mine turn himself in, to improve his case, but I’ve never betrayed a client’s confidence or trust, and I won’t start with you two. I wouldn’t recommend that you turn yourselves in, because you’ve got this amnesty in the works, and you’ve been living honestly and intend to go on doing so. Besides,” he said, after a pause, “I helped to baptize you, Thaddeus. Turning you in to the law would be dishonorable—that’s how I see it, anyway. And if I tried to turn your partner in without you, well, that wouldn’t work well.”

“No,” said Heyes, “that would get us all in trouble.”

“Exactly. Which is why, among other reasons, I decided to do nothing of the kind, before I ever sent you that telegraph.” The lawyer stood up, crossed the room, and offered his hand first to Kid and then to Heyes. “Do you believe me?”

Kid gravely shook his hand. “I believe you, Richard. Like you said, guess I should have known better. It was hard for me to believe that you meant somethin’ different, just now.”

“Yeah, I guess we do,” said Heyes, as he gripped the lawyer’s hand.

“Good.” Bancroft resumed his seat. “Now then …” 

Heyes interrupted. “But if you weren’t talking about the reward, what _did_ you mean when you said knowing us was gonna be lucrative?”

“Have you got any idea how much paperwork all this is going to entail? It’ll be lots of work for me.”

Heyes looked at his partner and both laughed, surprised. It had never occurred to them to think of their situation in terms of paperwork. 

“Right now, though,” Richard continued, “one of the things I need to have from you, if I’m to represent you, is a list of every crime you’ve committed since you told this Sheriff Trevors you would go straight. That’s so I don’t get any surprises, if for some reason somebody manages to get you into court.”

“Only since we went straight?” asked Heyes. “Because I don’t think I can remember all the things we did before that.”

“Only since then.” The lawyer wrote a heading on a new piece of paper and used his desk ruler to create columns, then waited for Heyes to begin.

“We broke out of jail the night Lom was due back in Porterville from Cheyenne.[1] He’d had us arrested, for what he thought was a good reason, it turned out, but nobody explained it to us. It really looked like he’d traded on our trust and set us up, just to get the reward. So we busted out. After that, we broke into a mining supply house to get some supplies.” Heyes went on, explaining the reason without attempting to soften it. “That was so we could rob the bank, coming in from the roof. We wanted to teach Lom a lesson. It didn’t occur to us until later that the person we’d be betraying would be Miss Porter, who was managing the bank in her father’s absence and had given us jobs.

“We timed the dynamite to blow when Lom’s train was due in. What we didn’t know was that my former gang had tunnelled underneath and set their own charges to blow at about the same time.” Heyes grinned. “The result was pretty exciting.” Richard put his hand up to cover his mouth, pretending to scratch his neck. 

Kid continued with the tale. “It suddenly dawned on me what we were doing—taking part in the worst bank robbery attempt Porterville had ever seen. And I knew Miss Porter would be there in a minute—and she had trusted us, even given us jobs. I pulled my gun and started trying to stop the boys from takin’ the money. Heyes joined in, so when Lom and his deputy got there on the run, Miss Porter was hugging us both and saying how wonderful we were.”

Heyes paused, thinking. “We opened a safe in a private house in Mexico, and took only what we’d been paid to retrieve, which we had been told was stolen property.[2]

“We spent some time in a little town called Wickenburg,[3] got good jobs, and were all settled in to stay there for a while, when we were fired, beaten up, and thrown out of town. I finally figured out that we hadn’t ever seen the man who owned most of the important businesses in town. After we tried to see him and failed, we broke into his house late one night to find out what he was tryin’ to hide. Turns out he was an old pal of mine from away back, who’d got away with some loot that he was supposed to split with me and the rest of the gang.

“Let’s see. We had to get out of town fast one time, so when we weren’t able to buy or beg horses or train tickets or any other way to get out of town, we stole two tickets from a pair of men who had reservations on a special train.[4] Tied ’em up and left them hidden in the … well, near the railroad station. We found out later they were involved in a conspiracy to rob the train, so maybe it was just as well.”

The two outlaws looked at each other. “Grace Turner,” said Heyes. 

“Yeah.” Kid turned back to the lawyer. “A woman recognized me one time when I was down in Mexico alone.[5] When we got to El Paso, she collected the reward for capturing me, but then I guess she got to feelin’ sorry for me, so she busted me out of the local jail. I don’t know if that was her crime or mine.” 

“Both,” said Richard. “I’ll put it down, anyway. Go on. This is very interesting.”

“She wasn’t sorry enough,” Heyes said. “She kept the reward money, so I had to get hold of a friend of ours—well, you’ve probably heard of him. Soapy Saunders.”[6]

Richard choked. “You know Soapy Saunders?” 

“Sure,” said Heyes. “Known him a long time. He’s retired now—keeps a house in Denver and another one in San Francisco, complete with servants to maintain them both—but he was more than willing to help out. With his help, I ran a confidence game on Mrs. Turner, since she didn’t know me by sight, and got the ten thousand dollars back so we could send it to Lom and he could return it to the railroads.” 

Richard smiled unwillingly. Hearing this catalogue of misdeeds from the pair of charming rogues, especially the way Heyes told the stories, he was finding it difficult to keep a properly serious demeanor. “A confidence game can be considered a crime—taking money under false pretences would be one of the charges; however, I understand why you did it. Go on, please.”

“Well, the next one could fall under that heading as well, but we returned the money after we were done,” Heyes explained cheerfully. “That was another problem that Soapy helped us out with. A banker had robbed his own bank and shot his manager when the man found out about the loss.[7] To cover his tracks, he got the descriptions off our wanted posters and reported that we’d done the robbery and murder. We knew we had to make him retract his story, since we couldn’t go to the law.” 

“I’m beginning to appreciate some of the difficulties you’ve labored under,” commented the lawyer, making careful notes. “Of course you couldn’t go to the law.”

“We borrowed some uncut diamonds from Soapy.[8] The game hinged on salting a diamond field, then the banker was to find investors to develop it after he had agreed to pay us two hundred thousand for our claim. Fifty thousand dollars of that was up front in cash. For the scheme to work, you have to pick a time when the only man at T. F. Ayres and Company in New York who can evaluate rough diamonds is out of the country.” 

The audacity of the scheme nearly took Richard’s breath away. Writing furiously, he nodded to Heyes to finish the story. The outlaw smiled with deceptive sweetness. “Well, after he’d embezzled the fifty thousand from his bank to pay us, we told him he’d been had. We promised to bring back his money if he went to the newspaper and explained it wasn’t Heyes and Curry who robbed his bank and killed his manager. Before we could hand the money back, which would have meant letting him get away with what he’d done, Lom Trevors showed up in town, worried about us. He took the money as evidence, and managed to get charges brought against the banker. Kept our names out of it. We returned the diamonds to Soapy and that was the end of it.”

“I think the next one,” said Kid, “was this girl we were trying to help find a buried Union Army payroll from the war.[9] An outlaw held up the stage we were all on, recognized us, gave the sheriff the information, and we got thrown in jail. Heyes managed to convince the girl that we couldn’t help her find the payroll unless she got us out of jail. Of course, we told her that we weren’t really Curry and Heyes. I don’t think she believed us, but she did break us out of jail.” 

“I know what you’re gonna ask,” added Heyes. “We did find the payroll, and the girl paid us the fifteen hundred dollars she’d promised us out of it, so I guess you could put us down for receiving stolen goods or whatever that would be called. But the older woman who was along to chaperone the girl got together with the local deputy and stole the rest of the money. Which is why the girl was never charged with breaking us out of jail. He was the only witness, and he was gone.”

By this time, Richard was laughing. He couldn’t help it. “I didn’t expect you to be able to list so many crimes committed after you went straight, even though there were good reasons for your actions in all but the original bank robbery attempt, but I also didn’t expect it to be so funny. I’m sorry—perhaps it wasn’t funny to you. I understand that, but …” 

“Oh, it wasn’t funny at the time, but I was wondering,” admitted Heyes cheerfully, “how long you could keep a straight face.” He grinned engagingly, making the lawyer laugh harder.

Before Heyes could continue, they heard voices at the top of the stairs. Recognizing Lillian’s voice, Kid sprang to his feet. “No, sweetheart, you shouldn’t be trying to come down the stairs by yourself yet,” he said quickly.

“Paula is helping me,” Lillian pointed out, with dignity. Kid shook his head, mounted the stairs without more ado, picked up his betrothed and carried her gently down, where he deposited her safely in an armchair near his own. Paula Wellington followed with a blanket which she wrapped around the invalid, though Lillian was wearing a heavy dressing gown of dark brown wool overlaid with a print of copper-colored roses.

“She heard all of you laughing,” Paula explained, “and nothing would do for her but to come down and find out what was going on. I have to admit to a certain amount of curiosity myself. It did sound as if you were having an enjoyable conversation.”

“We _are_ enjoying it,” said Heyes, “now that Richard has agreed not to have us arrested.”

“Richard!” Lillian was horrified. 

“As Heyes said, I’m not going to have them arrested. I never was going to have them arrested. They’re my clients. It’s only that they misunderstood a careless remark of mine. I mentioned how lucrative being their attorney was likely to prove, thinking of all of the affidavits and other paperwork that will be necessary before they can take their places in society again, and they thought I might be referring to the rewards on their heads. Just a simple misunderstanding.” He smiled at Lillian. “It’s good to see you up and about, but you mustn’t overdo. But I was laughing because they’ve been giving me a list of their crimes since they went straight. Not the ones for which they may mistakenly have been blamed, but what they’ve actually done. They’ve been making the account quite amusing.”

“That I can well believe, with this pair of rascals,” said Lillian, laughing. “You just go on with your list. I want to hear this.”

“I think you know most of it already,” Kid pointed out. 

“Possibly I do. But I certainly wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Nor should I,” added Paula, sitting down next to Heyes on the short sofa. “Please. Don’t pay any heed to us. You can pretend we’re not here.”

Heyes exchanged a rueful glance with Kid, who spread his hands in a ‘no help for it’ gesture. The byplay was not lost on Richard. “Yes, go on—and don’t leave anything out, please. It’s important for me to have a complete list. I know you would prefer that your ladies remain in ignorance of some of this, but that can’t be helped.”

Kid outlined the story of Fred Philpotts, who claimed to be Kid Curry, and nearly got himself hanged for a crime that neither he nor the real Kid Curry had committed.[10] “Of course, Heyes and I had to think of something. And what does this idiot do but get up and say, when they had the rope around his neck, that the man with dark hair and brown eyes who was with him the night of the killing was Hannibal Heyes?” 

“Saddling me with a murder charge,” said Heyes. “About that point, I lost my temper. I stopped the hanging …” He paused, seeing the lawyer’s curiosity, and added, “by saying that Grandma Curry was on her way, and she should get to see her grandson before he died.”

“I got myself let into the jail, told this Philpotts character who I was, and scared him out of his wits. But he still wouldn’t tell the truth, so, well, we busted him out of jail. Later, they caught us—me, and Kid, and Fred, and Fred’s girl Penny, who had helped us with the jailbreak, and jailed all of us. Never did figure out who the Kid and I were, though. Meanwhile, the other man was caught, and he confessed, so Fred was clear. He explained how he wasn’t really Kid Curry, and the judge threw us all out of the courtroom. Told us to leave town and never come back” 

Heyes finished the story, deadpan. The two women and Richard were all laughing, as much at Heyes’s manner as at the story he had told. Finally, Richard touched his handkerchief to the corners of his eyes, and managed to say, “Do you remember the judge’s name?” 

“Yes, it’s Carter. Henry Carter, I think,” answered Heyes. He watched Richard make another note. “Why?” 

“Only that it might prove useful one of these days.”

Heyes grew serious. He was still angry at what Harry Waggoner had done, forcing him to rob a bank by threatening to have Kid killed if Heyes didn’t comply.[11] He explained this briefly to Richard, adding a description of how he had managed to turn the tables on Waggoner, capture all three of the culprits, and turn them in to a deputy sheriff along with the loot. 

“That one was the riskiest thing I’ve done in a long time. I couldn’t think of any other way to handle it. If the governor hears about that robbery, he’ll know that the crooks were caught and the money returned, but he’ll also know, if he asks the right people or reads the right papers, that I was involved, because of the way the safe was blown. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

Richard nodded, making extensive notes. “I think that can be dealt with, if anybody brings it up. Are there any more?”

“Oh, yeah. Several.” Heyes attempted to take counsel of his partner with a quick look, but Kid was occupied in soothing Lillian, agitated after she had heard how close he had come to being murdered.

“The next one’s kinda odd. I’m not sure that we actually committed any crime, except for being stupid enough to trust Sheriff Curt Clitterhouse, but this is how we met Counsellor Brubaker and Judge Hanley.”[12] He explained quickly how they had brought in four outlaws accused of robbing a bank and killing a sheriff, only to find out that the lawman to whom they had to deliver their prisoners was someone who knew them by sight. They had made a deal with Clitterhouse so that they could get the prisoners handed over and be on their way, but the sheriff had broken his word and had them arrested, right in front of the local judge. 

Heyes smiled sardonically. “When I saw the look on the judge’s face, I knew we had a friend. He’s an honorable man, and he was pretty shocked—you might even say outraged. I thought up a way to have Clitterhouse spring all of us from jail in return for the other gang telling him where they hid the loot from the robbery, and gave the idea to the leader of the boys we’d brought in, so he could pass it off as his own. Funny thing,” added Heyes innocently. “When they broke jail—we went with ’em as far as the livery stable, then turned and went back to our cell—men were waitin’ for ’em in the stable, and recaptured them all. Clitterhouse was arrested, and the stolen money was found hidden in his cabin. Then Judge Hanley guessed about the amnesty offer. Later that night he set bail at the amount of money we had in our pockets—about twenty dollars—and told us to go away. Said he didn’t expect to see us again.” 

Richard nodded. That kind of judge, who put honor and justice ahead of enforcing the letter of the law, was one for whom he had nothing but respect. He hoped to meet Hanley some day. Meanwhile, he eyed Heyes curiously. Odd, he thought, that this Clitterhouse, who knew Heyes and Curry, had not realized that he was making dangerous enemies for himself by breaking his word to them. It also told Richard how important honor was to Heyes, and how touchingly innocent, in some ways, he still was—that he had found it difficult to believe that a law officer would double-cross them in order to get his hands on the reward money.

“This is gettin’ to be dry work,” said Heyes. “I could use some coffee.” He looked at Paula hopefully. Often, she anticipated his wants and had coffee ready for him, but this time she appeared to be giving more of her attention to Lillian—which was understandable, he reminded himself. It was Lillian who had been at death’s door with a fever. Just then, as though she was able to feel his gaze, Paula met his eyes, broke into a smile, and quietly went to the kitchen to get the required coffee.

“Come on, Heyes, finish it up. There are only five or six more,” Kid reminded him. 

“All right. Now we get to the business of Clementine Hale.[13] She used to have a photograph that we had made years ago, of her and me and the Kid. She used that to blackmail us into helping her swindle a crooked investment broker. Then she gave that money to the state of Colorado as restitution for the funds her father had been falsely accused of stealing. She could have just asked us. We’d have been glad to help her and her father.” Heyes stopped to accept the fresh cup of coffee Paula brought to him, thanking her with a word and a smile. 

Watching this little scene with some disapprobation, Lillian observed that at least he remembered to thank her. But the man had his betrothed waiting on him, as if she were already his wife, and neither party seemed to see anything unusual in the arrangement. She would have to have another talk with Paula.

“Richard,” asked Kid, “you did manage to intercept that letter that Clem sent from Texas, didn’t you? The one I wired you about?” 

“Yes, I have it here.” The lawyer extracted the still-sealed letter from a locked drawer. 

The outlaws looked at each other. “You never opened it?” Kid slipped the envelope from Richard’s hands. 

“No, it was addressed to Lillian.”

“I’d better take it, then.” Lillian held out her hand for the letter.

Kid shook his head. “It was an attempt to blackmail you for the money Clem needed to see that her father got treatment—the money she’d failed to get from us after we refused to hold up a Wells Fargo messenger, and then Paula got the photograph away from her so she couldn’t use that against us. After that, Chad Cooper arrested her for extortion and attempted high-road robbery. That’s all taken care of now. We paid for her father to come down to Tombstone and meet Heyes and Paula and Clem there. We’d written to _Señor_ Córdoba, the _alcalde_ in Santa Marta, and he came to Tombstone and took Clem and her father back to Mexico with him. They were married at a _rancho_ just outside Nogales—he and Clem—and then they went back to Santa Marta. Took her father along. So that’s settled. But I didn’t want you to be upset by this letter, so I wired Richard to see if he could intercept it, after Clem told us what she’d done.”

“That was awfully sweet of you. But don’t you think I’d better see it now?”

“Lil, I’m gonna ask you not to open it. Let me put it in the fire. I know what’s in it, but nobody needs to read it now. It would upset you, and I don’t want that. You just got up out of bed after a serious illness.” There was a slight silence. “Please, Lil. Will you do what I’m asking?”

After a long pause, Lillian nodded. “All right, Jed. Go ahead and burn it. As long as you’re sure there’s no money in it, or something that shouldn’t be burned.”

“No, there’s no money.” Kid stood up, walked over to the fireplace, put the letter on the flames, and used the poker to make sure it was consumed and not capable of being resurrected from the ashes. “Thank you, dearest.” He went over to her chair, bent down, and kissed her gently on the lips.

“I have a question,” said Richard after a moment. “Where is that photograph now—the one Miss Hale had?”

“Chad Cooper has it. He’s a Texas Ranger,” explained Heyes, “and he knows who we are. He said they’d keep it down in Laredo for evidence, in case Clem comes back to Texas. If she does, she’ll be arrested. Naturally, we’d prefer to keep our names out of it, not that I think it will happen. She’s very much in love with her husband. No reason for her to come back. But I agreed with Chad that it was probably best for him to keep it.”

“Would you explain about this connection you have with the Texas Rangers? Here’s the telegraph Captain Parmalee sent me, telling me where to find you. I don’t mind telling you I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole,” said Richard.

Heyes chuckled. “Well, in the fall of ’eighty, Paula’s brother hired us to escort them both down to Texas, since they were carrying a sizable amount of cash. We found out, part way down there, that they knew who we were.”

“We were on a train they had held up, back in 1878, the day of the eclipse.” Paula smiled at her betrothed.

“About the same time, we found out her brother was a Ranger—part-time, I guess you could say,” Heyes went on. “When we got down to Laredo, it turned out that Parmalee had written to Lom Trevors about us and gotten back a really good recommendation. Wellington didn’t tell him—he kept his word to me to keep our real names quiet—but we didn’t realize that Parmalee had received a wire from New Mexico, asking if Smith and Jones really were working with the Wellingtons on Ranger business, because a couple of bounty hunters had claimed they were Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. So by the time we got there, he knew who we were. He offered us temporary jobs, because he knew we weren’t in a position to take a three-year enlistment. I like bein’ a Ranger—it’s a good cover, no one would look for us down that way—but I don’t want to be one for three years.”

“The Ranger captain knows about the amnesty, then?”

“Yeah, he does. I guess Lom told him,” said Heyes. “We got us a friend in Laredo, anyway. Well, three, really. Chad Cooper and another Ranger, Erik Hunter, know about us, too. Chad knows about the amnesty. I don’t know if Erik does or not.”

The lawyer made another series of careful notes. Paula added helpfully, “Erik spells his name with a K. E-R-I-K, if that’s what you’re writing down. My brother and I have known him for years. We bought the dam and sire of the Friesian horses we rode into town from Erik’s father in Friesland. Of course his name isn’t really Hunter. That’s a translation of his Dutch surname, Jaeger.”

“Thank you.” Richard finished writing and looked up. “Now you’d better finish that list of crimes, if you please.”

Heyes grinned. “Sure. The next one was something I actually enjoyed doing, even though it could have put us in a lot of trouble. A banker saved us from a citizen’s arrest and then told us he had a job for us.[14] While we waited to hear about the job, he framed us for robbing his bank. Then he offered us twenty thousand dollars of the proceeds from the robbery, if we’d go to South America and leave him to get away with robbing his own bank and then getting it re-funded with the taxpayers’ money.” Heyes’s jaw set. “We told him we didn’t want to go to South America, because of the amnesty and some other matters we didn’t mention, like Kid’s understanding with Lillian. He just laughed us off, so we took the money and left his house. Then we paid a couple of friends to make a lot of noise in some town in Wyoming in the middle of the night on a certain date, sayin’ they were us. And that’s the date we robbed the guy’s bank for real. 

“We took the money to the banker’s house, opened his wall safe, and put it in there, along with the twenty thousand he’d given us earlier. Which is where the territorial marshal and the sheriff found it when they came to search the house. Fortunately,” Heyes added, “the twenty thousand was in bills printed by that bank, and the loot from the second robbery was in good Federal currency, so they were able to identify the money as being from both robberies, which cleared us completely.”

Bancroft stared at the outlaws in some consternation, caught between disbelief and laughter. “So you just framed him for the crime he had framed you for.”

“That’s it. Worked real well.” 

* * *

[1] q.v. the pilot episode.

[2] q.v. the first-season episode “The McCreedy Bust.”

[3] q.v. the first-season episode “Exit from Wickenburg.”

[4] q.v. the first-season episode “Wrong Train to Brimstone.”

[5] q.v. the first-season episode “The Great Shell Game.”

[6] This character, who appears in three AS&J episodes, was of course a veiled reference to Jefferson Randolph “Soapy” Smith (1860-1898), the well-known Colorado confidence man. The real Soapy Smith was rather younger than Heyes and would not have been acquainted with them, or if he had been, he would not have been able to help them out, not having made his fortune yet. 

[7] q.v. the first-season episode “A Fistful of Diamonds.”

[8] <http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-great-diamond-hoax-of-1872-2630188/>

[9] q.v. the first-season episode “The Root of It All.”

[10] q.v. the second-season episode “The Day They Hanged Kid Curry.”

[11] q.v. the second-season episode “How to Rob a Bank in One Hard Lesson.”

[12] q.v. the episode “Jailbreak at Junction City.”

[13] q.v. the second-season episode “Dreadful Sorry, Clementine.”

[14] q.v. the second-season episode “The Man Who Broke the Bank at Red Gap.”


	8. The Catalogue of Crime, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes and Curry finish telling their lawyer about all the things they've done illegally since going straight, finishing up with the poignant story of Belle Jordan's trial. Counsellor Bancroft is impressed with the evidence that both outlaws really have turned over a new leaf. Against the doctor's advice, Lillian O'More insists on getting up from her sick bed to accompany the whole party to church on the first day of the new year.

**December 30th, 1881, 3:30 p.m.**

“There’re just a few more,” Heyes assured the lawyer. Richard was looking at his list, now running almost two pages in length. “We were captured by a prospector once, up in the hills.[1] He and his wife and young son took us down to the nearest town and turned us in. He wanted the reward money—he made no secret of that—but he was kind of apologetic about it. After I told him we’d gone straight and were hoping for an amnesty, he was even a little sorry, but he said he had to follow through with it because they really needed the money to send their kid to a good school. I think that’s the nicest citizen’s arrest we’ve ever been subjected to.”

Kid chuckled. “Only then, he got to feelin’ real bad about it. Came to see us in jail and brought a gun with him. I think he intended to pass it to us somehow, but of course the sheriff searched him and found it, so that didn’t work. So what does he do, after we told him we didn’t like the food in the jail, but have his wife bake us a wonderful blackberry pie?”

Richard sat up straight with a jerk. “You’re not going to tell me they baked a gun into the pie? I didn’t think anybody ever did that outside of a dime novel.”

“That’s what they did,” said Heyes. “We only used it, late that evening, to point it at the sheriff, long enough for me to take his own gun out of the holster and threaten him with that—because the gun the Tapscotts sent in the pie was an 1848 cap-and-ball revolver. It didn’t make the pie taste bad, but we probably couldn’t have fired it.”

Stifling giggles, Lillian covered her mouth with her hand. Richard gave up the attempt to keep a straight face and burst out laughing.

“Yeah,” said Kid. “It was pretty funny. Anyhow, that’s all we did. Just broke out of jail and left town as fast as we could.”

“What happened to the family?”

“We had a friend of ours, a Bannerman detective, send a wire about ’em,” replied Heyes. “When we found out they’d been arrested, we made arrangements for Counsellor Brubaker to defend them. We also spent a fair amount of money, which I got by helping the Bannerman agent shut down a crooked casino, paying for civic improvements in the town. Brubaker told us later that he’d have been able to get the Tapscotts off even without the civic improvements. He said the case against them was very weak.”

“And wholly circumstantial,” Richard agreed, “if no one had the gun to look at. I’d like to talk to this Mr. Brubaker. I can at least write him a professional letter.” He got up and went over to the window, pulling back the curtains so he could look into the street. “Meanwhile, you gentlemen aren’t going anywhere.” He saw an alarmed look cross Heyes’s face, and added, “No, don’t take that wrong. Come and look.”

Both outlaws came over to the window. Outside, the snow was coming down in big, fat flakes, so thickly that they could barely make out the house on the other side of the street. Curry whistled. “We made it here just in time.”

“Yes,” said the lawyer. “This is the big winter storm we’ve been waiting for—the first this season. This will close all the passes.” He came back and resumed his seat. “Go on with your list, if you please.”

“There isn’t much more,” Heyes assured him. “We accidentally came into possession of two hundred thousand dollars in counterfeit currency. We were going to destroy it, since there wasn’t any easy way for us to turn it in without having a good way to explain how we got it. But then I got an idea how we could use it for something, without spending it.”[2]

Richard covered his eyes.

“Well,” said Heyes defensively, “you couldn’t expect us to just sit there and not do anything with it. It literally fell into our laps—it was thrown off a stagecoach and almost hit me in the head.”

“Naturally I couldn’t expect that.”

“It’s a long story, which I don’t want to take the time to go into. You were just interested in crimes, so I’ll mention those. Number one was putting the money into a bank safe deposit box for a while. We just put it into a lock box, but we were in illegal possession of it. I was able to use the impression that created to get myself invited to a high-stakes poker game, where I did pretty well, two weeks in a row.” He smiled. “Kid and I broke into the bank one night and opened a safe and that lock box, substituting real money for the counterfeit bills. Then I let myself into a hotel room belonging to a Treasury agent who was there asking about the counterfeit currency, and put the counterfeit bills into his valise. Easiest way to get them turned over to the proper authorities. And that was it.”

“Not quite,” said Kid. “What about that hundred dollars?”

“Oh.” Heyes looked down at his hands, falling silent for a moment. “When we had the safe open, a hundred-dollar bill fell out of it. I put it aside, and then I closed the safe before I remembered to put it back. That’s the truth. So I decided to keep it.”

“That’s the first outright theft you committed since you went straight, isn’t it? At least according to what you’ve told me this morning. Where you kept the stolen money, that is.”

“I could have made arrangements to put it back that night, or even to drop it on the floor somewhere in the bank when I returned the next day to get the money out and give Mr. Sterling his receipt back. I didn’t. The excuse I gave myself was that we’d found out the banker, Sterling, was crooked—he did try to blackmail me—and I knew that when the loss of the hundred dollars was discovered, he’d have to make it good out of his own pocket. I figured it’d serve him right.” He held up his hand to forestall Richard’s comment. “You don’t have to say it. I already know that wasn’t a good enough reason. I put it out of my mind at the time and didn’t let it bother me. And of course we spent the money.”

He exchanged another look with Kid, then looked back at Richard. “So what do you think I should do about it?”

“That’s up to you. I won’t even attempt to advise you, except to say that I don’t think it would be a good idea to return it to the banker, for a number of reasons. It would be difficult to explain, for one thing.”

Heyes looked at his cousin one more time. Then, with a sudden movement, he plunged his hand into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a handful of folded currency. He peeled off two fifty-dollar bills and handed them across the desk to the lawyer.

“Take it. If you know of a charity that could use the money, maybe you could give it to them. Would that work?”

Bancroft took the money, awed at what he had just seen happen right in front of his eyes. This money was worth a good deal more than its hundred-dollar face value. It was evidence that Hannibal Heyes had developed a more sensitive conscience. He looked at Curry. “You agree, Thaddeus … ah, Jed?”

“Yeah. Like Heyes says—give it to charity. We trust you to find a good place to put it to use.”

“I know just where it should go. And if you don’t mind, I won’t give you a receipt for it, because …”

“The money wasn’t ours in the first place,” Heyes supplied. “Like Kid said, we trust you. We’ve trusted you with our lives and our freedom. A hundred dollars is nothing compared to that.”

“I think it’s worth a great deal,” replied Richard gravely. He folded the money and locked it in his desk drawer. “I shall see to this later today.”

Heyes grinned ingenuously at the lawyer. “That’s just about the end of the list. Does that make you think we’re hopeless?”

“No,” returned Bancroft, deliberately. “In every case except the one you just mentioned, I can see that you were simply trying to keep yourselves out of the hands of the law and keep your reputations clean. A man who wasn’t wanted would have gone to a law officer, or to a lawyer, or both, in many of those situations, but you can’t do that. You had very little choice.”

He paused. “I suppose it didn’t occur to you that the two of you could simply have gone to some little town where you weren’t known—in California, or Oregon, or even here in Telluride—and settled down to live quietly and honestly while waiting for your amnesty to come through? It would have been a lot easier, don’t you think?”

Heyes and Curry looked at each other, then both spoke at once. “Well, yeah, but …”

“It would have been awfully dull,” finished Heyes.

Their attorney nodded. “That’s what I thought. But you have twenty-seven crimes here—” he tapped the list he had been making “—that you wouldn’t have to worry that someone could hold against you in the future.”

“That many?” Heyes was startled. “We didn’t mean to commit crimes. It just worked out that way, trying to clear ourselves. And there’re two more.”

Richard sighed, and ruled another row at the foot of the list he had made.

“The summer before we were here in Telluride for the first time, back in ’eighty,” Heyes began, “we took refuge with a ranch family in south-eastern Colorado. A posse that had been chasin’ us for almost a week turned up. I convinced the family to take us prisoner themselves, so they’d get the reward instead of that posse. But on the way to town, with Mrs. Jordan driving and Sheriff Morrison and his deputy riding along to watch us, we managed to escape.”[3]

Richard wrote down another escape from custody, and looked back up at the outlaws, waiting for an explanation of how they had accomplished that. None was forthcoming. He watched Miss Wellington take her fiancé’s hand and look seriously up into his face. No one spoke.

After a moment’s silence, Heyes gave Paula’s hand a quick squeeze and let it go. “Later on, we doubled back to see how much trouble we’d left the family in. When Mrs. Jordan and her daughters—Bridget was fourteen and Beth was twelve—went on trial, Kid sat in the back, and when it didn’t go the way it should have, he turned himself in and testified that Mrs. Jordan had nothing to do with our escape.”

A small squeak interrupted him, as Miss O’More seized Kid’s arm. Kid blushed, but threw his partner a grateful look. He could not have told her himself, but the tale of self-sacrifice sounded very well told by Heyes.

“They put him in jail to await extradition, of course. There was a drunk already in there, who’d been arrested when he started firing a gun in the saloon.” Heyes smiled triumphantly. He never minded boasting about his own cleverness. “Toward the end of the evening, when Kid mentioned my name for some reason, I took off my moustache, pulled a gun out of my boot—nobody took the trouble to search the drunk for a second gun—and busted us both out. And that, sir, is the very last one, at least as far as I remember.”[4]

“Yeah,” added Kid, “because after that, I met Lillian, when we were here in September of ’eighty. And in November that same year, Heyes met Paula.”

“You mean to say we’ve been keeping you out of trouble?” Paula raised her eyebrows.

“I suppose you could say that,” replied Heyes. “I never thought about it, but it’s true.”

Richard finished his list and gazed at it with satisfaction. “That makes a total of twenty-nine, seven of them simple matters of escaping from custody, many of them defensible in court as justifiable, and almost all of them understandable given the position you were in and still are. If I have to defend you—though we’ll hope the occasion doesn’t arise—this list and your explanations will be of considerable help.

“And now I think we ought to take a break.” Richard smiled at the invalid. “Lillian, you probably shouldn’t sit up too long at one time, especially if you intend to go to church tomorrow. You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it, naturally, but I know the folks have been worried about you.”

“I shall certainly go,” she replied with determination.

“In that case,” said Kid, “you’d better go back to bed for a while. I’ll carry you.”

“No, Jed, wait. I’m doing well enough here, and I’m tired of lying in bed. I appreciate the offer, though. You can carry me up when I’m ready.”

“Then I’d better see about getting us something to eat,” said Paula. “Or should we send out for some food? I certainly don’t want Hannah trying to cook for all of us.” 

This and other concerns were soon adjusted, and they spent a quiet afternoon, talking and making sure that Lillian did not exert herself over-much, until Dr. Hoogendyk paid his promised visit. He agreed that Lillian might sit up for a few hours at a time if she wished, but she should continue to take the paregoric medicine that he had prescribed, as it had known cough-suppressant properties and he expected a severe cough to develop later in the day. 

When told of the patient’s determination to attend the worship service the next day, Dr. Hoogendyk objected strenuously, but to no avail. Lillian was quite set on attending, though she agreed to be well wrapped up and to sit near the back, where they could assist her to get back to the Bancrofts’ house if she were to begin feeling faint. She pointed out to the doctor that he himself had said that the expected cough was the worst that was likely to develop, and he had given her a prescription for that. Nothing, therefore, should be thought to stand in the way of her attending church, to give thanks for her recovery and for the safe arrival of her fiancé and his party.

“Ah, in that case,” Hoogendyk agreed, “it is not a wonder that you should wish to go. If you take great care not to exert yourself too suddenly, all will be well enough.”

“I’ll see she doesn’t overdo it, Doctor,” said Kid. The others agreed.

**Telluride, Sunday, January 1st, 1882**

At church, after the main worship service had taken place, Richard quietly announced that he had a remarkable story of answered prayer to relate. With his encouragement, Kid told the story of what had happened when they were crossing Ophir Pass, supported by Heyes and both the Wellingtons. Everyone was rather shaken, and some of the women had tears on their faces. The Revd. David Austin rose and said, “Let’s praise God right now for this miracle and for allowing us to take part in it with our prayers.” He led them in a familiar doxology, to the tune of Old Hundredth:

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,

Praise Him, all creatures here below,

Praise Him above, ye heav’nly hosts,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

Amen.

The minister then related the very odd story told by Jesus about the persistent widow and the unjust judge.[5] “God values and encourages our persistence in prayer, even when it seems that answers are not forthcoming, or when, as in the remarkable thing that happened last Thursday, we do not understand why we are being prompted to pray, or even precisely what the Lord wishes us to pray about,” he assured the congregation. “Let this be a blessing and encouragement to us all.”

Richard Bancroft, who, as a lawyer, had always disliked that particular parable, suddenly broke into a smile. To the best of his recollection, no one at this church in Telluride had ever preached a sermon about it or attempted to explain it, and he had never really understood that it was intended to encourage persistence in prayer, even with the explanation given by Jesus to His disciples in the Gospel passage. He knew now that he would never again be puzzled about the meaning. “Isn’t there a story in the Old Testament which bears on the same point? I’m sorry to say I don’t recall where it’s located, but someone was praying, and an angel was sent to him …”

Paula looked quickly at her brother, who nodded, and they both began to search their Bibles, competing to see who could find the passage first, just as they had done as children. Her finger inserted at the place she had found sooner than he, she looked up. “Might that not be in Daniel? It’s Daniel chapter nine, verses twenty-three and following—at least, that story fits Deacon Bancroft’s description.”

Everyone looked up the passage. “That’s the one I was thinking of,” said Richard, scanning the verses.

“It’s hard to understand, but the gist of it,” said the minister, having been put on the spot, as it were, by his deacon, “is that God sent an angel to bring Daniel some specific answers, directly at the time when Daniel started to pray; however, we read that it took the angel three weeks to get there. Daniel knew that there was some kind of spiritual warfare going on, and he fasted and prayed more fervently. The angel explained to him later that he had been waylaid by a powerful evil spirit, and was only freed to come to Daniel after the Archangel Michael came to his aid. Why did God let things happen that way? We don’t know, but we are told that’s what happened. Astonishing as it may seem, God uses our prayers to accomplish His purposes. And now we have all been provided with an example of that, right here in Telluride, Colorado.”

Several of the men murmured agreement. 

“Praise the Lord!” 

“Praise God!”

Austin looked over at the recent convert who had told the story. “Thaddeus, we appreciate you telling us this. I know it was uncomfortable for you, but we needed to hear it.”

“Sure,” said Kid, a hint of embarrassment in his smile.

Later in the afternoon, when Lillian had been firmly carried to her bed, ever so gently, by Kid Curry, the Bancrofts and their guests, this time including Paul Wellington, discussed what needed to be done next. Lillian had announced her intention of returning to her house the next day, saying that Patches, her cat, and Finn, the dog, must be thinking she had abandoned them by this time. She knew the cat had been looked after adequately by her neighbor Elsa Krebel, and that Finn was staying with Mike and Susanne Doyle, her partners at the Rose, but that did not make up for being away from them for so long.

Curry said he would see to it that she was moved safely and carefully, and Paula said that she herself would, of course, take up residence in Lillian’s house as she had done during the summer. Between them, they ought to be able to keep her from exerting herself too much. Kid proposed that they should plan to make the move the following morning, and this was agreed to.

“Richard,” said Heyes, “are you busy with clients in the morning? They won’t need you to help with the move. They won’t need me, either, I’ve been told.”

“I was planning to help, but Jed can use our buggy,” replied Richard. “Why won’t they need you?”

“Well, Paula doesn’t get very much done when I’m around. She says it’s too distracting,” Heyes explained, straight-faced. “Anyway, she’s asked me not to come. Says she and Kid will meet Paul and me at the Rose for lunch.”

The lawyer chuckled, looking at his appointment ledger. “I’m free in the morning.”

“Good, because I’d like to talk to you. Alone.”

“I should be delighted.” Richard marked off the block of time in the ledger. “I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed or overheard.” 

* * *

[1] q.v. the second-season episode “The Men That Corrupted Hadleyburg.”

[2] q.v. the second-season episode “The Biggest Game in the West.”

[3] q.v. the second-season episode “The Posse That Wouldn’t Quit.”

[4] Glancing at the Roger Davis episodes, one finds that there were only five crimes committed in the entire 17 episodes—three in “Biggest Game in the West,” one in “What’s In It for Mia?”, and one in “Don’t Get Mad, Get Even,” all late second-season episodes originally written for Pete Duel as Heyes. (The latter two episodes are not mentioned in this story.) More than any variation in the character, which can be accounted for by the actors’ different interpretations, this demonstrates that the stories were indeed written differently for Roger Davis, despite Roy Huggins’s denials, contributing very largely to a feeling of unreality in the last 17 episodes. Roger Davis’s portrayal of Heyes almost seems more like the character of Stephen Foster Moody, whom Roger portrayed in the unsold 1970 pilot “The Young Country.”

[5] Luke 18: 1-8.


	9. Further Discussions with a Counsellor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyes takes advantage of Kid's temporary absence to tackle Richard Bancroft about some religious questions that have been annoying him. In the process, the lid which he has clamped down tightly on his more distressing childhood memories is forced off.

The next morning, Monday the 2d, Heyes and Kid showed up at the house shortly after breakfast. They each greeted their ladies with a kiss, and then Kid went to get the Bancrofts’ buggy ready. As soon as he came back in to say that the Friesian mare he had been riding was harnessed to the buggy, which was waiting in the street, Lillian and Paula went out to it, Heyes accompanying them to carry Paula’s light baggage and hand them into the buggy while Kid helped to carry the few things of Lillian’s which had been brought to the house when she fell ill. Heyes solicitously provided his partner with a shovel, in case driving the few blocks to Lillian’s house proved to require some excavation of the street.

“Thanks.” Kid took the shovel. “I might need this.”

“If you think you’ll need help, I’ll come along. I can come back here afterwards,” offered Heyes.

“No, I should be all right. The snow wasn’t too deep when we walked over here.” Kid looked curiously at his cousin. He knew that a conference had been scheduled with Richard Bancroft, to take advantage of his own absence, and wondered what Heyes and the lawyer had to talk about. He hadn’t asked, however, and Heyes had volunteered no information. Hoping that all would be well, Kid climbed to the driver’s seat and shook the reins.

Heyes watched the buggy start east along Columbia Street, and then went back in the house.

Richard was waiting for him, and ushered him into the front room that served him as a secondary office. “Come on in. We built a fire in here early this morning, to take the chill off the room, so it should be fairly comfortable. And there’s fresh coffee.” He poured a cup without asking if the outlaw wanted any, and held it out.

“Thanks.” Heyes took it and gulped the hot liquid gratefully, taking the seat to which the lawyer waved him.

After a few moments, Richard said quietly, “What did you want to talk about, Heyes? I know there are a lot of legal matters still to be dealt with.”

“It’s not that. I don’t want to talk to the lawyer. I need the deacon. I want to talk about … well, you know, about God.”

“Ah. You still need a counsellor, then, but of a different sort. I shall be happy to do what I can to help, or just to listen if that is what you prefer.”

“I think I’m gonna have to do something, whether I like it or not, because with both Kid and Paula believin’ in God the way they do …” Heyes paused, took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t think I’ve got a choice.”

Richard leaned forward in his chair, a worried look on his face. “You will always have a choice—about that, at any rate. Do you think they’re expecting you to do something?”

“No, not exactly. Kid doesn’t say much unless I ask him, and Paula won’t even talk about it. When I asked her why not, she said she doesn’t want to influence me—like you said, to make me think she’s expecting something. But _somebody’s_ expecting it. Maybe it’s God.” After a moment, he added, “I feel like I’m being sent up for a life sentence at hard labor. And nothing I do is gonna get me out of it.” He stared at Richard challengingly, his dark brown eyes full of unquiet thoughts.

Sending up a short prayer for guidance in dealing with this tangled situation, Richard knew he couldn’t say what he was thinking. _But God isn’t like that! All right, Lord, show me how to get to the bottom of this_. “You think you’re going to have to try very hard to live the way God wants a Christian to live? And you won’t be able to do it?”

“Yeah. Kid and I’ve met at least three ministers of the Gospel in the past two years. One used to ride with my gang. We had to tell him we couldn’t have him there any more, because he took to drinkin’ so hard he put us all in danger. We saw him again a little over a year ago. He’s still drinkin’ too much. Still wearin’ his preacher hat, coat, and collar, too. I know that’s not the way to go about it.”

“No, certainly not.” _An ordained minister riding with a gang of outlaws? What next_?

“I got to thinkin’ that maybe the Preacher—that’s what we all called him—started drinking because he couldn’t measure up. I sure don’t wanna end up that way.” Heyes finished his coffee and set the cup down. “Then there was a lady who called herself Sister Grace and described herself as a minister. She was living the right way, but she didn’t seem to know much about life, or how to get along in the world. Kid tried to talk her into being a _little_ bit frivolous, and she said she’d try.” Heyes rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure how that’s gonna work, but I can’t really take her for a model.”

“No, I don’t suppose you could. No one expects you to do that, surely?”

The outlaw didn’t answer this. After a pause, he went on. “The third one was a fellow named Spencer. I think Kid told you, last summer, about that ranch foreman and gunman who he shot in the arm, after the man had been bullying us for two days? Fellow named Briggs.”

“Yes. I offered to find out what had become of him, when Thaddeus said he was worried that Briggs might not have survived. As it happened, I found that he had lost some of the use of his right arm, but otherwise had recovered well enough. Unless he learns to fast-draw with his left hand, though, that will put him out of the business of bullying.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, this Revd. Spencer had left his congregation in Taos because he was expecting folks to come to church and then go out and try to live the Christian life the way he was teaching ’em, and they didn’t. He got discouraged, left town, and started drinking. Then he saw Kid let this Briggs fellow back him down, twice—humiliate him in public. Kid wouldn’t draw on him, because he’d given me his word, but he couldn’t tell Spencer that, or at least he didn’t choose to. Spencer wanted to know why Kid was being so peaceable, and when we didn’t tell him what was really going on, he jumped to the conclusion that Kid was doing it for religious reasons. He got real excited. Said Kid had proved to him it was possible to ‘live by the Christian creed’, and he was gonna stop drinking right then and there. Said he was going back to his congregation.”

“Thus making your partner responsible for this man’s spiritual renewal? It wasn’t fair to put such a burden on him, but perhaps that didn’t occur to the Revd. Mr. Spencer.”

“We were afraid, after Kid shot Briggs, that Spencer would hit the bottle again, but eventually he came and joined us in the stagecoach, wearing a suit and everything. He got off in Taos, and as far as I know he went back to his preaching job. And I’ve been feeling kind of upset about that ever since. He did what God’s wantin’ me to do. Gritted his teeth, changed his whole life, and went to ‘live by the Christian creed’ out of sheer determination.”

Richard shook his head vigorously. “But God doesn’t want you to do anything of the kind! Revd. Spencer was wrong. Oh, not wrong to go back to his congregation and continue to preach the Gospel, if God has truly called him to that work. But he was certainly wrong to say that about living by the Christian creed, as though that is what makes a man a Christian. As though it’s something a man has to do by his own efforts. As if that were even possible! And I can tell you from experience—it’s not.”

“I beg your pardon?” The bewilderment on Heyes’s face was plain to see.

“It’s _not_ possible to live that way, unless the Lord gives a man supernatural help. And living that way doesn’t make a man a Christian, though it may be taken as evidence that he _is_ one. That’s because the Lord sends the Holy Spirit into the life of any man who puts his faith in Him, as Jed did last summer. And it’s only by the power of God that anybody even has a chance at living the Christian life. Trying to do it in one’s own strength is setting oneself up for failure, as Spencer discovered, and your friend the Preacher.” Richard’s voice shook with emotion as he strove to make the matter clear. “It simply doesn’t work that way. I could show you a dozen verses to back that up.” He tapped his Bible where it lay on the corner of his desk.

Absorbing what had been said, Heyes gave a long sigh. “I have to admit, Kid doesn’t look like he’s workin’ at it, or havin’ trouble like Spencer was. But he’s changed; only it’s real quiet. Not obvious unless you know him like I do.” His crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’d like to see those verses. Maybe you could let Kid have a list of them, and he and I could look at ’em later. Or Paula and I could do that.”

“I’d be happy to,” responded Richard. “But one thing you need to understand is that being a Christian isn’t just living according to the teachings and example of Jesus—which is impossible to do without the Lord’s help, nor is it just believing in a set of doctrines. Both of those are part of the equation, but they aren’t the whole thing.”

That was a word Heyes knew. “You mean it’s like a mathematical formula? Come on.”

“In some ways it is. God invites you to believe in Him and trust His promises, and in return He undertakes to make a new man of you. But that wasn’t what I meant by using the word ‘equation’.”

Not waiting for a reply, Bancroft rose and went to his book shelf, searching for a particular volume. Coming back with Luther’s _Small Catechism_ and the Episcopal _Book of Common Prayer_ in his hands, he said, “Give me a moment to look something up. I’d like to try an experiment with you.”

A little dubious, but by this time aware that he could trust the lawyer not to do anything dreadful, Heyes waited.

“Ah. Here we are.” After a few minutes of searching through the volumes, he being neither Lutheran nor Episcopalian but only keeping the books for reference in his position as a Congregationalist deacon, Richard found what he wanted. With the prayer book open to the Nicene Creed, he said, “I’m going to read you a series of statements. If you don’t follow the old-fashioned English, say so and I’ll rephrase it. But for each statement, I’d just like you to say whether you believe it or not. This is arranged in twelve sections according to the most ancient records of the early Christians, as to what they thought was most important.”

Heyes nodded.

“I believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth,  
And of all things visible and invisible:”

“Sure,” said Heyes, as Richard paused.

“And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God;  
Begotten of his Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of very God;  
Begotten, not made; Being of one substance with the Father; By whom all things were made;  
Who for us men, and for our salvation came down from heaven,  
And was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, And was made man:”

“I think so,” said Heyes. “I’m not sure what ‘very God’ means.”

“It’s an old way of saying true or real—that is, that Jesus is God in the same way God the Father is.”

“Well, yeah, everybody knows that. Go on.”

"And was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried:”

Heyes frowned. “You’ll have to refresh my memory about who Pontius Pilate was. I know he’s in the Bible. For the rest, it’s a fact. Of course I agree with it.”

“Interesting that you should ask, since we’re both experienced with the legal system,” replied Richard. “Pontius Pilate was a corrupt judge. He ascertained that Jesus was innocent, according to Roman law, of the charges brought against him, but he washed his hands of the matter—literally—and stood aside and let men who had no duly constituted authority give orders for his execution. He did that because he was afraid of a riot breaking out, and he didn’t really care whether the accused was innocent or guilty.”

“And he never had to answer for it?” asked Heyes.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“And I thought _we_ had trouble.”

“And the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures:  
“And ascended into heaven, And sitteth on the right hand of the Father:  
“And he shall come again, with glory, to judge both the quick and the dead:  
“Whose kingdom shall have no end.”

Richard paused briefly after each statement, looking up and receiving brief nods each time.

"And I believe in the Holy Ghost, The Lord and Giver of Life,  
Who proceedeth from the Father and the Son;  
Who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified;  
Who spake by the Prophets:”

“I don’t know too much about the Holy Ghost, except that He’s not a ghost the way we’d use the word. They explained that to us at the Home. But I don’t hear anything in there that sounds wrong.”

“It just means,” explained Richard carefully, “that He is God, the same way Jesus and the Father are. We believe that God is one God in Three Persons—and don’t ask me to explain that, because no one’s ever been able to. But that’s why we baptize people in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

“All right, I understand that well enough.”

“And I believe one Catholic and Apostolic Church:”

“Catholic means ‘universal’. It doesn’t mean specifically Roman Catholic. Some churches substitute the word ‘Christian’ here when they repeat this creed aloud in the worship service. And it means that the original church was founded by the apostles, following the instructions of Jesus.” Richard looked up and Heyes nodded.

“I acknowledge one Baptism for the remission of sins:  
“And I look for the Resurrection of the dead:  
“And the Life of the world to come.”

Heyes nodded again as Richard paused after each phrase. “Yeah, I agree with all that, I guess. I haven’t thought about it in years, but I was taught that stuff by my folks, and a little bit at the Shaker settlement, and then at the Home, like I said. And one time, when we went to church with Paula and her brother, they read this same set of statements, or something close to it, during the service.”

Richard closed the book. “You agree with all of those statements.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Then why would you say you’re not a Christian?”

Heyes looked alarmed. “What are you gettin’ at?”

“Only that agreeing with those things indicates you’re a Christian by confession—that is, you accept the basic doctrines of the faith.”

“Well, thanks. But it seems to me there’s a long way to go. I know it’s not that easy, even if I wanted to do it. And there’re some things that I’d like to, well, argue with God about. But thanks for pointing that out.”

The lawyer smiled. “My pleasure. Would you care to take a break and resume this discussion at another time?”

“If you don’t have anything else to do, I’d rather finish it now. I’ve got some more things to ask,” said Heyes, his jaw set stubbornly. “I could do with some more coffee, though.” He stood up and went over to the pot that Richard had placed in the hearth to keep warm, and poured himself another cup. “And don’t think, just because I’ve been agreeing with you, that you’ve got me backed into a corner.”

“I don’t think anything of the sort. The Lord will have to do any backing into corners, if it happens. It wouldn’t be a true conversion unless you consent to it with your mind and heart. And I can see you haven’t. You have a confessional faith, as I said. What you don’t have is a fiduciary faith.”

“I _think_ that’s a banking word,” said Heyes, “but I have no idea what it means. Leave it to a lawyer …”

“It refers to a relationship of trust. In the case of a banker, it means he has undertaken to hold the money he’s been entrusted with honestly, ready and willing to manage his depositors’ assets or to return them to their owners. Never mind that some bankers fail to fulfil their obligations—and it seems you and Jed have met several of those. You needn’t let that put you off trusting God.”

“It doesn’t. I never thought of comparing God to a banker. You’re right, though. I _don’t_ quite trust Him. You wanna know why?” Heyes took a gulp of his coffee and then set the cup down because his hands were shaking. He had pushed this to the back of his mind years ago. It was over. There was nothing to be done. But now, all of a sudden, he was as angry and frightened as the ten-year-old boy he had once been, hiding in the loft of their barn, seeing his father and mother killed and their house go up in flames. _And it was God’s fault._

Speaking slowly, struggling out of long habit to conceal his emotions, he told Richard about the deaths of his family and Kid’s, and the cruel hard time the boys had had trying to survive, Heyes always looking out for his younger cousin as his father had adjured him to do, until someone took them in and eventually took them to the Shaker community in western Ohio. Why would a good God let that happen? Did He keep His promises to Mrs. Heyes or Mrs. Curry as they prayed for the safety of their sons? Did He answer their prayers?

_So that’s what’s going on_ , thought the lawyer to himself. _But it seems to have affected Heyes much worse than it did Curry, and they both had the same experiences_. “You are very far from being the first man to ask such questions,” he began cautiously. “Good men have always had trouble understanding why a good God allows evil to happen in His world, even to those who love and serve Him. There _are_ answers, though they may not satisfy you just now. But instead of looking at matters in an abstract light, let’s talk about what happened to you and Jed. I assure you that I mean no offense, or any disrespect to your brave parents, but I am going to point out some things that perhaps you haven’t thought of.”

“Go ahead.” Heyes shrugged. “If you’ve got some different way of looking at it, I’ll listen.”

“First of all, your mother’s prayers, and the prayers of Mrs. Curry, _were_ answered, and answered positively, it seems to me. You both survived, and you didn’t enlist as drummer boys or otherwise get caught up in the war, where you might have been killed or maimed. You were preserved and kept safe, and you grew up to be what you are now: good, honorable men.” He smiled at the outlaw’s cynical expression. “Yes, I know there is the little matter of the ten years you spent outside the law, taking what you wanted, and living off the industry of others, but the Lord has offered you a way out. He has even brought both of you to the notice of a pair of good women who love you and want to marry you. It’s possible that none of that would have happened if you had simply stayed on your parents’ farms.”

Heyes shuddered. Dry-land farming ranked high on the list of occupations of which he found the very idea distasteful. He said nothing.

“So the question now is, can you forgive God?” Richard asked. “Could you forgive God if God were to show you how He brought good out of the deaths of your families? There _is_ good—we know that,” continued Richard, “because of what is said in Romans chapter eight, verse twenty-eight.” For Heyes’s benefit, he quoted it aloud. “‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ We can’t always find the good or see it until God explains it or shows it to us, which often takes quite a while to happen.”

“Well, I don’t know. I never thought about it. I usually don’t think about this at all,” Heyes admitted. “Besides, isn’t it improper, somehow, to talk about forgiving God? I mean—He’s God. He doesn’t care what I think.”

“Yes, He does. And we have to talk about forgiving Him, whether you think it’s proper or not. I submit,” said Richard, falling into a courtroom approach, “that you have been angry at God for years, for letting your parents die. You just wouldn’t admit it to yourself. Isn’t it true, therefore, that you would have to decide to forgive Him, just as you would have to forgive anybody else you were angry with?”

Heyes muttered, almost to himself, “Serves me right, talking about this kind of thing with an attorney.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “If God shows me that good you’re talkin’ about, I guess it’s a possibility.”

“Good.” As far as Richard could see, the discussion had gone just about as far as it could go. He waited to see if Heyes had anything to add.

“It’s just that—I feel like I’m bein’ chased by a posse,” the outlaw said suddenly, as though the words were being forced from him. Seeing the lawyer’s eyebrows rise, he explained, “There’s all this answered prayer that’s been happening, like what happened up on Ophir Pass, and then we found out you folks were prayin’ for us right at that time. I know now that if something happens that’s impossible by the laws of probability, it’s likely God did it. It’s obvious He’s intervening in our lives—not stayin’ on His side of the fence any more.”

Richard smiled at the reference to the conversation they’d had in July about this same topic. But back then he hadn’t known he was talking to an outlaw.

“Answerin’ prayer. Giving Kid visions of angels. All sorts of things like that. I’m impressed—of course I am. But then I start to think about all the people who are prayin’ for _me_. That’s what I mean about bein’ chased by a posse. Sooner or later He’ll catch me.” Heyes drew his Schofield from its holster and laid it on Richard’s desk. “I might just as well surrender right now. Why wait to be arrested? Might as well give in.”

Bancroft picked up the revolver as its owner watched closely, pulled the hammer to half-cock, opened the action, and then closed it and handed it back. “Well, I’ll tell you. First of all, there are certain differences between pursuit by a sheriff’s posse and pursuit by God. The sheriff’s posse would chase you until they forced you into a place where you couldn’t escape. Then they’d point their guns at you, tie you up, take you to jail, and make arrangements to extradite you to Wyoming.” 

“If they don’t kill or wound us in the process—but, yeah, that’s usually how it goes. Kid and I’ve had it happen often enough.”

“But”—the lawyer continued earnestly—“God will follow you. When you stop for a rest, He’ll stop at a discreet distance and wait. When you move on, He’ll follow again. If you look back, you’ll see Him waiting—waiting for you to ask Him to come closer. He won’t arrest you, or oblige you to do anything against your will, if you really insist on Him keeping His distance.” Seeing that Heyes, appalled, had nothing to say in reply to this, Richard added, “Maybe you could tell God, eventually, that you don’t mind being made willing to take the next step. Until you do that, God will keep back and be respectful of your wishes. But He’ll still follow.”

“And if I ask Him to leave me alone?” demanded Heyes.

“He won’t do that—because He loves you. And because, as you’ve pointed out, people who love you are praying for you.”

There was a long silence. Finally, with an effort, Heyes said, “I might be able to get that far—to ask God to make me willing. I guess I’m curious about what God will do next. That’s about all I can say right now. And I’m sorry I ever brought this up, because I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight for thinkin’ about it. Thanks, anyway.” He picked up his hat, nodded to Richard, and made his way to the door.


	10. Snow-Bound on the San Miguel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lillian O'More slowly regains her health, Hannibal Heyes and his party settle down in Telluride for the remainder of the winter, finding paying jobs and helping out at the Irish Rose while the restaurant is still short-handed due to the influenza epidemic.

**Lillian O’More’s house, Telluride, Colorado, Monday, January 2d, 1882**

Kid Curry reined the Friesian mare to a stop in front of Lillian’s house. Ignoring her mild protests that she was quite capable of walking, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the door, while Paula Wellington ran ahead to unlock the door with the key that Richard Bancroft had given her.

Encountering the Arctic temperature inside the house, Kid set his betrothed down on a small sofa. “Let’s get that stove lit!” He took kindling from the basket in the corner and began to build a fire in the wood stove, having first swept out the ashes. 

“I’ll get the hot water bottles from the buggy.” Paula turned back to the front door.

“I’m quite warm,” protested Lillian.

“You won’t be for long,” said Kid, “if we don’t get the chill off the house. The bucket in the kitchen is full of ice. I’ll get the kitchen stove lit next. Do you have any coal here?”

“There should be some in there.” Lillian pointed to a wooden seat with a hinged, padded lid. 

Kid swung the lid back to disclose several pounds of coal, already broken into small chunks. The small wood fire he had laid in the stove was now burning brightly, so he carefully inserted pieces of coal into it, using a long-handled pair of tongs. He swung the stove door shut. The temperature in the room was already rising as the fire took hold of the fuel.

Tucking the hot water bottles into the blanket wrapped around her friend, Paula found that the drain-board pump in the scullery was working freely, so she filled a kettle while Kid swept the ashes out of the kitchen stove and laid a fire there.

In no time, it seemed, the kettle had boiled, and the stoves had been lit in both upstairs bedrooms. In the front parlor, now quite warm, Paula poured cups of steaming hot tea for each of them, and sat down in a chair across from Lillian, while Kid took a seat beside her on the sofa. “That takes care of things for now, I think. I’ll get some lunch started later. You’ll be able to eat something, won’t you, Lillian?”

“Yes, I think so. You’re going to too much bother.”

“Someone has to do the cooking,” Paula reminded her. “And it’s certainly not going to be you—you’ll be rather pulled by that grippe for a while yet. So you’ll have to put up with my cooking. You, too, Kid. That’s if you’ll stay here and eat lunch with us. After that, I think she’d better get some sleep.”

“I don’t mind your cooking,” he protested. “But come to think of it, Lil, couldn’t I drive over to the Rose and see if they have some soup or something they could let us have? Just for today?”

“That’s a good idea,” she replied. “Especially since I’m not sure what I have here in the way of food supplies. I do most of my cooking and eating over at the Rose.”

“I’ll go right now and see what Susanne can come up with for us. And I have to see to my horse. Be right back.” Kid gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and left by the front door, descending the steps and walking down the street to the restaurant.

Lillian sipped the hot tea gratefully. “The three of you must have had a terrible time getting here, especially that first section between Oneida and Tucumcari, where there’s no railroad yet. Jed hasn’t talked much about it—he just says it was no trouble, and brushes off my questions.”

“It really wasn’t much trouble, though there was a lot of steady riding. Not hard riding—just steady. Trot and canter for almost eighteen hours, with stops to rest the horses, of course. Everything worked out well, because Heyes planned the whole trip. He even made a list in a notebook of what had to be done at each stage, how many miles, how we were to cover the distance. It wouldn’t have worked without his planning. That’s after he stopped trying to convince me to stay behind.”

_Eighteen hours in the saddle wasn’t much trouble?_ But Lillian refrained from comment on that part. Aloud, she responded, “Stay behind? As if you would!”

“Yes, that’s what I said. What was he thinking? Leave me for Chad Cooper to look after? Let me make that whole trip alone, later, at a slower pace? I told him I wasn’t going to do it. Then Kid reminded him that I would be needed to help look after you, and to chaperone the two of you. At that point, Heyes gave in. It’s not that he thinks I’m some kind of fragile flower—at least, I don’t think he does—but he does want to protect me, which is rather nice. No one has done that in years.”

They were interrupted by the sound of Kid Curry stamping the snow from his boots on the verandah. A moment later he came in, admitting a blast of cold air before shutting the door behind him and holding out his hands to the stove to warm them.

“Another storm coming in, I think. The wind’s come up, and it’s getting colder. Susanne says that if I go back over there in about forty-five minutes, they’ll have a complete meal ready for the three of us.”

“I can help with bringing it back,” said Paula, checking her watch. “Meanwhile, I’ll set the table, and I’ll make sure your bed is ready for you, Lillian. That way you two can have a little time to yourselves. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Quietly, she got up and left the lovers alone.

Later, after the sustaining meal brought over from the Rose had been consumed, Kid urged his sweetheart to take to her bed and rest. Over her protests, he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom and laid her down on the bed. “I’d better get back over to the Bancrofts’ house, at least to return the buggy. Heyes and I’ll be back later to chop some wood for you and bring up coal from the cellar. Come to think of it, we’ll have to look for some gainful employment, if we’re going to be here for a while.”

After he left, Paula settled down in a chair in Lillian’s bedroom with her knitting. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to hover over you. I just want to make sure you’re warm enough and able to rest. You know, what Kid said about work made me think. I know you’ve got work for me at the Rose, as we arranged last summer, and Heyes and Kid always land on their feet. The one I’m worried about is my brother. He’s not accustomed to turning his hand to any available job, as they are, though I suppose he’d do well enough at most tasks. In some ways, he’s an intellectual who ought to have completed his final year at Oxford, instead of leaving university in order to get me away from my aunt’s marriage schemes. Then we came over to America and started the ranch, which meant we all had plenty of work to do, even if he didn’t find it congenial. He’s never spoken of it, but I think he has always regretted not being able to take his degree.”

Lillian yawned. The warmth of the hot water bottle by her feet was making her sleepy. “Why don’t you get him to talk to Richard? After all, he’s a lawyer—he had to study a good deal for that law degree, and he has books all over his house. He might be able to think of something your brother could do while he’s in town.” Try as she might, she was unable to keep her eyes open any longer, and, when Paula did not continue the conversation, Lillian soon drifted off to sleep.

*** *** *** 

Once she was certain that Lillian was asleep and in need of nothing, Paula harnessed Lillian’s pony mare to the light buggy and drove to the restaurant to help with the preparations for the evening meal. Just before the customers were expected to start arriving, she went to check on Lillian. Having made tea and a light meal for her hostess and seen her settled at the table in the kitchen next to the hot stove, she returned to the Rose to work through the supper hour.

Susanne, who had been managing the Rose for a week with only such help as her husband could give, together with the Rose’s usual employees, was delighted with the additional help. Midway through the evening, she saw a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes enter the dining room and sit down. Coming into the kitchen, she said, “There’s a handsome stranger out there who needs attending to. Came in just now, alone.”

“I’ll do it.” Paula picked up a card with the evening’s bill of fare written on it and went to the pass-through window which communicated between kitchen and dining room. “Oh, that’s only my brother.”

“I thought that might be him. He’s going to cause flutters in some feminine hearts if he stays around very long,” Susanne commented. As it happened, she had not been in the dining room on the previous occasions when Wellington had come in to dine, so this was the first time she had seen him. “Is he married?”

“No, and not likely to be, I fear. He left a young woman behind in Scotland, nine years ago, and I don’t think he’s ever got over her.”

“You haven’t eaten yet this evening, have you? Why don’t you take a break and go eat with him? What would you like us to bring you?”

Paula glanced at the card in her hand. “Steaks, done rare, potatoes, and some of the Brussels sprouts from the preserves. Neither he nor I care for sweets, so you needn’t concern yourself with any dessert. And hot tea, but I’ll make that fresh and take it out to him.”

Paul Wellington looked up in some surprise to find, instead of one of the young waitresses, his sister approaching him with a pot of hot tea, a jug of cream, and a pair of cups and saucers in her hands. Hastily, he rose and took the teapot and cream from her. She had removed the green gingham apron worn by all the women who worked at the Rose, but her flushed face and the wisps of hair straying from her bun demonstrated that she had been working near the hot stove.

“Thank you! I’m to take a break, Mrs. Doyle said, and take supper with you. They’ll bring the steaks and potatoes in a few minutes.”

“Good. How’s Miss O’More? Did you get her ensconced in her own house again?”

“Yes, K—Thaddeus and I brought her over this morning and got her settled, brushed out the ashes, lit the stoves, brought lunch from here for the three of us, and then got her settled for a nap. I just checked on her an hour ago and fixed her some food. She’s doing well.”

Whatever Wellington had been about to reply was forgotten as he saw one of the young ladies approaching with a heavy tray of plates. Assisting her to set the plates on the table, he smiled and thanked her, then sat down again. Tacitly, conversation was delayed until after the hot food had been enjoyed and they had been brought a fresh pot of tea.

Paula poured the tea, putting the cream into the cups first as they both preferred. “I was saying something to Lillian about work. I’ll be working here, and I’m not worried about Joshua and Thaddeus. They never seem to have any trouble picking up odd jobs—and of course they’ll be working here a little bit, helping out with some of the heavier tasks here at the restaurant and over at Lillian’s house. I was telling her that I wasn’t sure what you would be able to find to do while we’re here, though.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re correct. I shall have to find something.”

“Lillian suggested that you speak with Richard Bancroft. He might know something that you could do. I told her you were an intellectual out of university, like a fish out of water, you might say.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “There are a few other things I can do, such as run a ranch, gentle young horses, do leather-work, shoe a horse …”

“Oh, I know, but … well, you know what I mean.”

“Certainly. I shall talk to him tomorrow.”

Just as Paula rose to return to the kitchen and resume her apron, the front door opened to admit Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. Heyes’s brown eyes lit with pleasure when he saw her, and the two men lost no time in joining them.

“I’m sorry, darling. I can’t take the time to eat with you. We’re quite busy tonight, and I’ve just taken a break to eat with my brother.”

Heyes’s face fell, but he nodded. “I hadn’t thought about you starting here today, but you must get back to work. We can talk after the restaurant closes.”

“What about Lillie?”

She smiled at Kid. “I went to check on her an hour back and made her some supper. You could go and check on her, as long as you both go. You should eat first, though, or she’ll be getting up and trying to feed you.”

“I can see we’re going to have to plan meals a little more careful,” muttered Kid. “Sure, I’ll wait. Just bring us both whatever you just had.” Heyes nodded in agreement.

**Tuesday, January 3d**

In the afternoon, after Lillian had rested for a few hours, she and Paula were talking quietly in the sitting room, with a fire on the hearth. “Richard and Hannah were so dear,” Lillie said as she continued knitting on a shawl for herself that she had begun some weeks earlier. “They looked after me so well. But it is so pleasant to be back in my little house again.”

Elsa had taken very good care of the house, as well as of Patches, the tortoiseshell cat. Everything was perfectly in order and neat as a pin. Both of them were knitting, as it happened, as Paula was in the middle of another dark brown sock. Lillie looked up, with an apologetic expression. “I do hate to ask, but could you help me with my hair? I tried, but I just haven’t the strength yet.” Even just the simple task of undoing the long brown plaits had made her arms and shoulders ache from the effort. “Dr. Hoogendyk wanted Hannah to crop it all off, and I begged her not to.”

“Of course I will,” said Paula, and stuck the fifth sock needle through the sock and into the ball of yarn. “Have you your brush handy? Though a good wide-toothed comb is the best.”

“Yes, I have both. They’re on the dressing table in my bedroom.”

Half an hour later, having done what he needed to do in town, Kid Curry rode back up to Miss O’More’s house, and tethered Joe to the front porch post. When he knocked on the door and was bidden to enter, he discovered a scene he had never encountered before. Lillian was sitting before the wood stove in a straight-backed chair, while Paula was struggling to work a comb through her long wavy mane of dark brown hair, which was crackling in the cold dry air. He had had no idea until that moment just how thick and voluminous her hair was— he stood still, unsure whether to be fascinated or appalled.

“Oh, Kid, I’m so glad you are here,” exclaimed Paula. “Could we trouble you for an errand?”

It took a moment for him to pull his attention away from Lillian’s waves of brown hair. “Sure, anything—what is it?”

“Can you go to the apothecary and bring back a jar of pomade? The kind that Heyes uses. Her hair is so snarled that neither of us can do anything with it.”

“And definitely not bergamot, if you can find something else,” said Lillian. “I know it’s terribly fashionable, but I find it horrid.”

*** *** *** 

Meanwhile, Wellington called at Bancroft’s home. Richard was in the room which served as his home office, and rose to welcome the visitor. “Coffee? Or I can ask Hannah to make some tea for you.”

“That’s very kind, but you needn’t disturb her. I had a question with which I hoped you could help.”

Bancroft smiled at the Englishman’s precision of speech. It had been a considerable while since he had heard anyone talk like that. Paula Wellington, no doubt through continued association with Hannibal Heyes, typically used a rather less formal variety of English. “If I am able, certainly,” he replied.

“Heyes and Kid and my sister have all found jobs to bring in money for living expenses while we remain here in Telluride. I find myself rather at loose ends. I’ve been a horse rancher for nine years, and of course I’ve had to turn my hand to quite a variety of tasks in consequence, but there’s no need here, in the middle of winter, for any of the things I know how to do. Local cattle ranchers will have all the hands they need.”

“Working as a cow hand? You’d find that pretty uncongenial in any case.”

“Of course, there is the marketing side of our business,” Paul mused. “I have four of our Friesians here, because they were needed for the mountain travel between Silverton and Ophir, but in the spring, they won’t be necessary. I shan’t even need to keep one to go home with—I can take stages and trains back to Boulder and have someone from the ranch meet me there with a horse.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose. “You’re hoping to sell them?”

“Yes, if possible. They are all broken to harness as well as saddle. They’re accustomed to being driven alone, in a pair, or in a team. In fact, that’s where we sell most of them—to the carriage market in Denver.”

“I can find you a buyer for one of them right now,” returned the lawyer. “I’d like to take one for a carriage horse. And it’s possible that the president of the bank will take another. I’ll put you in touch with him.” He extracted his wallet from his pocket. “What’s the price?”

“That’s very kind of you! We usually get about seventy-five dollars for a well-trained carriage horse—but I’ll entertain any reasonable offer. And you can wait to pay me until I bring the horse to you.”

Friesian mare in harness

Counting out $75.00 in bills and gold, the lawyer drew a sheet of paper toward him and wrote out a bill of sale, leaving space for Wellington to add his signature and the details about the horse. “How about the mare that Curry harnessed to my buggy yesterday to take Miss O’More home? He left her here last night. She’s still in the stable.”

“That will do excellently well. This money will address any immediate difficulties, but that really was not what I came to ask you.”

“But I’m glad you raised the subject, because I had been planning to ask if you were willing to sell one of those magnificent animals. She’ll make me look like a prosperous, upstanding citizen, which is always useful. Pray go on with what you intended to say.”

“I was just going to lament,” Wellington continued, with a rueful smile, “that before leaving Great Britain to come here, my activities were mostly centred in academe. I had just completed my second year at Oxford when I got word from my sister that our aunt by marriage was scheming to marry her off to a most unsuitable person, and she felt she had nowhere to turn. I contacted our father’s solicitor, and he told us there was money available from the trust, should we be willing to pursue our father’s dream of setting up a horse breeding operation in America. He arranged everything, and we came here.”

“You never finished your degree, then.”

“No. And here in Colorado, I’ve no need for it, of course. I took courses at Colorado Agricultural College in Fort Collins, but …”

“So you would describe yourself as expert with books, a quick learner, and good with paperwork of various kinds.”

“Why, yes, I believe I could say that.”

“Then I may have something for you. One of the fatalities in this epidemic of influenza we’ve been having was, I regret to say, Mr. Gausefeld, my law clerk. He died two weeks ago. I’ll eventually have to train someone to replace him, but meanwhile, I am slowly drowning in a sea of uncompleted clerical work. Do you think you could help me out? I’ll pay you what I was paying him—sixty dollars a month. What do you say?”

Wellington’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That sounds like an excellent idea. I could try it for a few days, anyway, to ascertain whether I could complete the work to your satisfaction. And it will give me an opportunity to acquaint myself with Colorado law. Paula and I studied for our citizenship examinations, but that was mostly concerning United States law and the Constitution. I shall certainly do my best. When would you like me to start?”

“Today after lunch, if you can. You’ll be working right through here—” the lawyer indicated a smaller room that opened from his office “—and I’ll have papers laid out for you to work on when you return.”

Rising, the two men shook hands. Wellington let himself out the front door, mounted his horse, and set out for the Irish Rose for lunch.

**Irish Rose Restaurant, January 4th, evening**

As Paula cleared one of the tables, Hannibal Heyes came up quietly behind her, taking the soiled plates from her and stacking them carefully before carrying them to the kitchen. She picked up the wet dish cloth she had used to wipe the table and followed.

In the kitchen, Kid Curry was discovered bringing in a load of wood from the back porch, stacking it in the corner to be ready for the morning.

In answer to her questioning look, but quietly, in deference to Susanne Doyle and the two girls passing in and out of the kitchen, Heyes explained, “I feel like I haven’t had a chance to talk to you in a long time. I know we see each other every day, but—I can’t believe we’re staying in the same town and Thaddeus and I have hardly had a chance to talk to you and Lillian since Sunday.”

“I thought if we helped out a bit, you could get out of here a little earlier, and we could go with you to see her,” Kid added.

“She’d love to see you,” said Paula. “The doctor still has her spending a great deal of time in bed, and says she is not permitted to return to work yet. The poor girl is ready to go daft with being cooped up in the house, especially since she is unable to read or tat.”

“Unable to read?” Kid was worried.

“Yes, because of her frequent headaches. Also, she tells me, her eyes hurt when she tries.”

“That sounds familiar.” Kid exchanged a glance with his cousin. Both had been laid low by the grippe, Heyes more recently than Kid. _Of course_ , Kid reflected, _I wasn’t trying to read or tat, but I do remember the headaches._

Susanne returned to the kitchen in time to hear this. Going to the stove to begin the cooking of a steak, she said, “We’d all like to have Lillian back with us, but she’s unlikely to get better unless she has a chance to see you more often, Mr. Jones. Why don’t the two of you and Miss Wellington go to her house now? We’ll be all right here—the custom is slacking off for the night. Go along with you!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Doyle.” Kid touched his hat. 

Heyes assisted his lady to put on her coat and the three of them left by the back door. Heyes quickly adjusted the pony’s harness, then the two men mounted and followed the buggy to Lillian’s house.

*** *** *** 

“You two stay in the parlor while I find out if she’s fit to receive male visitors.” Paula started to mount the stairs. 

Lillian had heard their voices and came down quickly. She was wearing a woollen tea gown with a rose print on a dark background, her wealth of deep brown hair spilling loosely down her back. Without a word, she went to her betrothed and melted into his arms with a little sigh, leaning her head against his chest, the lamp light picking out chestnut highlights in her hair. “You’ve come early enough this evening that I should be able to talk to you without falling asleep. Jed, you come in the kitchen and sit with me for a while. Paula and Heyes can sit here. I think the stove has gone out, though.”

“You leave all that to me,” said Heyes. “I can brush out the ashes and lay a fresh fire in it. Paula and I will be all right here. I don’t even need any coffee.”

Kid slipped an arm around Lillian’s waist and led her into the kitchen.

After seeing to the stove in the parlor, Heyes returned to the sofa and sat down beside Paula, slipping an arm around her waist. For a few moments, they sat quietly, enjoying one another’s company in silence. Finally he stirred, tipping her face up with two fingers under her chin and bending to kiss her briefly. “Missed you.”

“We ate breakfast together at the Rose, darling.”

“Mmm.” He kissed her again. “But it’s not the same.” After a pause, he continued, “Something’s troubling you, isn’t it? What’s the matter?”

She hesitated for a moment.

“Come on, tell me.”

“I want to tell you. I’m just not sure if anything’s really wrong, or if I’m imagining it.”

He waited for her to collect her thoughts, satisfied she wasn’t trying to put him off.

“My brother took a position as a temporary law clerk with Richard Bancroft—and now he has turned into an oyster! I’m his twin—we’re not in the habit of keeping secrets from one another.”

Heyes digested this, rejecting the first two or three remarks that came to his mind. “You’d know if he was in some kind of trouble. Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s nothing like that.”

“Well, then, let it go. I’m sure he’ll tell you about whatever it is when the time’s right. If he’s clerking for Mr. Bancroft, he might be keeping other people’s secrets.” The similarity between Paula’s desire to find out her brother’s secrets, thus violating a man’s very natural reserve, and Heyes’s own need to be kept informed of anything that might be distressing his beloved occurred to him forcibly, only to be dismissed. _It’s not the same thing. It’s my job to find out what’s bothering her and fix it, if I can. We’re planning to be married, after all._ He tightened his arm around her waist.

Paula, on whom the irony of this was not lost, gave a tiny giggle and turned her face into his shoulder. “I love you, sweetheart.”

*** *** ***

A few days later, Lillian sat in her favorite chair spinning on the small upright castle wheel. “We do seem to keep having emergencies, don’t we?” She looked across at Kid Curry, seated on the velveteen settee. “Frightening one another to pieces. I believe we’re even now, at one crisis apiece.”

“That’s all right,” declared her betrothed firmly. “I’ll take emergencies over misunderstandings any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.” _I was afraid she might die_ , he thought to himself, _but I don’t have to worry that she doesn’t love me_. He kept his voice lowered, as Paula was in the kitchen doing the washing up, and he didn’t want her to hear what she might take as a criticism of Heyes. “Those two … they keep ending up at cross purposes.” Kid shook his head, in a mixture of affection and exasperation. “They always get it sorted out, but with them nothing’s ever simple, seems like.”

“Most people aren’t simple, really. Seeming and being aren’t the same.” Her eyes fell on the lovely, apparently simple, Christmas card he had sent to her in mid-December, presumably one he had found somewhere in Texas. The painting on the front of the card was typical of its kind. It featured a young couple, a woman with dark hair in a full-skirted wine-red gown and a man with lighter brown hair in a cutaway coat, standing in a festively decked parlor with a crackling fire and a well trimmed Christmas tree in the background. A cat dozed in a basket near the hearth, and to one side was a half-open doorway into another room, showing a glimpse of a child’s rocking horse. It was a charming little scene, straightforward and almost trite, but there was an unspoken message in his giving it, which was as clear to her as if he had said it outright. _One day, we hope, this will be Christmas at our house._

“No, I suppose not.” He chuckled quietly, watching the rhythm of her feet, in a pair of green woollen slippers, treadling the small wheel, while her hands appeared to magically draw out a smooth, even strand of yarn from the pile of gray wool in her lap. “Getting kinda philosophical, aren’t we?”

“I think winter brings that out in people,” she mused. “The chill air and cloudy skies make one pensive.” She paused, not sure if she should bring up what was on her mind, and treadled a few more turns of the wheel, reflecting on the happiness of the moment, simply being together without the need for words. It was a shame to interrupt it. “Jed?” 

Kid looked up. “Hmm?”

“What happens now?”

Her fiancé was silent for a moment before he answered, his honest blue eyes meeting her hazel ones. “I don't know, Lil. I hate to say it, but it's true. I just don't know.”


	11. Decisions and Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The emergency visit to Telluride, extended to three months as winter weather made travel difficult, comes to an end. Kid Curry is reluctant to leave his betrothed, Heyes is provided with more food for thought, and there are surprising developments in the lives of the Wellington twins.

**The Irish Rose, January 30th, 1882**

Kid Curry offered his elbow to Lillian as they climbed the steps to the back door of the Irish Rose. He and Henry Watson and Tommy had been working to keep the steps clear of ice, but as snow melted off the café’s roof in the sun, it continually refroze on the wooden steps.

“I can’t believe it’s been a whole month,” she said, shaking her head slightly as she stamped snow off her shoes while he reached to open the oaken door. “I never would have thought—oh!” she exclaimed, startled.

“Surprise!” cried out her entire staff, crowded around the big pine worktable in the kitchen of the Rose. “Hurray! Miss Lillie’s back!” exclaimed red-haired Molly Quinn, excited. 

“Oh, my gracious, I had no idea—” Lillian began, flustered, when she caught sight of Kid’s twinkling eyes and smiling face. “You knew all along!” She caught herself just in time before she made a slip and called him ‘Jed’.

“Certainly he knew,” said Paula Wellington, coming in through the swinging door from the dining room, where she had been keeping lookout duty and watching for Kid and Lillian to arrive with Rosie and the pony cart. “We all planned it together—quite a successful conspiracy, I’d say.” She smiled as well, and came over to take her friend’s cloak and hang it up. “And there’s more,” she said, as Elsa Krebel vanished hastily into Lillian’s small office and then emerged carrying a silver serving platter with a deliciously fragrant cake, covered in overlapping thin slices of apple.

Lillian was all but speechless. “It’s ... I ... thank you!”

“It’s a bit of an experimental offering,” explained Susanne, as she took out a cake server and began to cut slices. “Elsa here made her German apple cake with last fall’s dried apples, but we used your spice cake recipe as the batter.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Elsa said. “You always say how _gut_ my cake is, so it is my coming-back present for you. _Und_ now I can stop working again, _ja_?”

“Maybe not _completely_ ,” Susanne said with a chuckle. “Elsa’s been a real trouper, making noodles, and the apple cake, and her crusty bread rolls. Oh, and schnitzel. Those noodles are popular!”

“I can believe it! They’re delicious!” Lillian accepted her slice of cake and coffee, and all eight of them paused in the morning’s work for a hasty second breakfast of _Apfelkuchen_ and coffee. “Perhaps we can talk you into making every Friday’s lunch menu ‘from the old country’, or something like that.” She eyed the clock, and finished her cup. “And we open in an hour, girls ... what’s on the menu?”

“It’s all planned,” explained her business partner. “The ham is keeping warm in the oven and the bean pot is ready. If you and Paula will make biscuits, Louise and I will fry bacon. Then I’ll work the front while you two do the eggs. And I’ve brought up some of the last summer peaches from our root cellar, and stewed them into a compôte.” She gestured to the half-dozen empty quart canning jars waiting to be washed and put away. “Will that do?”

“Perfectly.” Lillian nodded, eyeing the preparations with satisfaction.

“Looks like I’ll just be in the way,” Kid observed. “Want me to make myself scarce?”

“No need to, Thaddeus,” said Susanne lightly. “Though if things get awfully busy, as I expect they will, we might need help with the stove or the dishes. Pour yourself some coffee and set a spell, why not?” She turned and looked him in the eyes briefly. _Stick around and keep an eye on her—she’ll overdo herself if you don’t._

“Fair enough,” Kid agreed, meeting her eyes. He and Susanne understood one another perfectly. It was wonderful that Lillian was well enough to be at the café again, but he was still slightly worried about her all the same. He kept those thoughts to himself, of course.

He did leave the kitchen of the Irish Rose for a quarter hour or so, offering to escort Mrs. Krebel back to her house across the way. The footing was slippery in many places, so it was only proper that he accompany her. When he returned and came back in the kitchen door, the preparations were well under way. Paula and Lillian were cutting biscuits, Louise and Susanne were frying the bacon, and he could hear Molly out in the dining room setting the tables with silverware. As he had observed many times by now, the five women accomplished what needed doing smoothly and without fuss, like a well-oiled machine.

As Susanne had predicted, they were quite busy—word had got round town that ‘Miss Lillie’ was back in the kitchen once more, and they had as much custom as they could handle. Kid was definitely needed to lend a hand from time to time. Paula and Lillian were doing the cooking of eggs to order, and Louise was plating the orders, arranging everything on plates and bringing the plates to the pass-through for Susanne and Molly to bring to the tables.

By the time the breakfast shift was nearing its end, however, Kid became aware that Lillie was fast running out of steam, as it were. Her movements were starting to remind him of a wind-up toy with a worn-out spring rather than a well-oiled machine. Molly had left an hour earlier to go to school, so Paula and Susanne were managing the dining room together. Kid watched his betrothed for a few minutes—clearly she was tiring fast, and just as clearly she was not going to stop working.

He went over to the stove, took down another green-trimmed white china mug from the shelf, poured it full of coffee, and set it on the table. “Lil,” he said, “come and set a spell. You’re running out of steam.”

She looked back at him, and for a moment it looked as if she would argue with that statement, but she sighed in agreement. “I suppose I am a little tired.” She came and sat down at the big pine work table.

“More than a little,” Susanne added as she came back into the kitchen through the swinging doors. “You haven’t the strength you think you have, not yet.” She smiled affectionately. “Irish and stubborn, just like that man of mine. Mike’s the same way, Lord bless him.”

As Lillian added cream to her coffee and sipped the strong hot brew, Kid spoke up. “What were you fixin’ to do next? Anything I can help with?”

“Well, there’s a batch of bread dough—six loaves’ worth—there in two mixing bowls in the pie safe. The dough should be risen now, so it needs to be kneaded and shaped into loaves and set aside for the proofing time. I was about to do that,” the proprietress explained.

_That much dough is heavy, and it’s hard work._ “Tell you what,” Susanne said brightly, “why don’t we trade jobs? Let’s see. Paula is just about to bring the cash drawer back here—why don’t you count the till today instead of me? I’ll manage the dishes and help Paula tidy up the dining room for luncheon.” She turned to Kid with a mischievous smile. “Ever made bread before?”

“Not that kind,” said Kid, “we mostly just make biscuits or bannock bread for eatin’ on the trail. And Paula knows how to make tortillas. But the point of going to hotels, ma’am,” he replied politely with a chuckle, “is not to have to worry about bread dough.”

By the time it had been arranged who was doing what, Lillian was shaking her head in amusement. “This isn’t trading jobs,” she said, “it’s Musical Chairs!”

A few minutes later, she found herself instructing Kid Curry, the notorious bank and train robber, in the finer points of managing several pounds of bread dough at once. Having washed his hands thoroughly and turned up his sleeves, he poked dubiously at the small mountain of shapeless soft dough on the bread board. “It’s too soft,” he said. “It’s just kind of lying there in a pile. How are we gonna do anything with that?”

“In that drawer,” said Lillian, pointing, “is a flat metal scraper with a wooden edge where you hold it.” Once he had found it, she went on. “That helps you get the dough gathered together and not sticking to the board. Use the scraper to scoop up the far edge and fold it over towards you. Turn the whole pile of dough a quarter turn, scoop up the far edge again, fold it toward you, and keep going. You’ll be surprised—it doesn’t stay like a soft pudding for long.”

As he folded and turned, folded and turned, the dough began to stiffen and become firmer, as if by magic or alchemy—and he began to feel an odd kind of satisfaction working the several pounds of dough under his strong hands. “Just like that,” his fiancée said, nodding. “When it feels like a—” she hesitated. _Gracious, I can’t tell him_ that _—when it feels like a baby’s backside!_ “After a few more turns, slap it. When it sounds like _thwack_ and not _thud_ , it’s ready.” 

She chuckled to herself and watched him out of the corner of her eye as she began to sort the money in the cash drawer to be counted.

**Sunday, February 5th**

“Well, now, I guess there’s three options we got,” Kid said, slowly, thinking about what he wanted to say. He and Lillian were sitting in her parlor at her home, but Paula was within earshot in the kitchen to act as chaperone for her fiancé’s cousin and his intended.

Lillian looked up from her mending, listening. “Yes?”

“Here’s what I can figure out. There might be another way, but if there is, I can’t think of one.” He held up one finger. “We could go ahead and get married, now, here in Telluride. I kind of thought that we might have to, see …”

She frowned, confused. “What do you mean? When? I don’t understand.”

Jed Curry found himself blushing as he started to speak. “Lil, I wasn’t going to tell you. I shouldn’t have let it slip.”

“Please tell me. I—I’d like to know.”

“Well, when Richard sent us the telegraph that you were so sick …” He faltered for a moment, at a loss for what to say. “See, there was no telling what might happen, or how long it would take for us to get here. So I brought a ring with me, in case the doc thought, well, you …” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Oh, Jed …” She dropped her sewing, entirely forgotten, and reached out her hands to him. “You …”

He took her hands in his, firmly. “Last fall I gave you my word to make you my wife, Lil, and I mean to do it. If worse came to worst, and we had to tie the knot right there and then, or never, I was ready.”

Their eyes met, and for a few moments she was speechless. Her natural humor reasserted itself almost immediately. “But I had nothing to _wear_! And my hair was a fright! Whatever was I to do?” she feigned to protest. 

He stared, taken aback, and they both laughed. “Lil! I was serious, you know—”

She took a deep breath and retrieved her sewing from the carpet where it had fallen. “I know you were, and you are. But—could I see the ring?” she asked, her tone once more serious.

Kid shook his head. “No, Lillie, I’m not going to show you,” he replied. “It’s not fine enough—nothing like what you should have for a wedding ring. But it was what I could get in Santa Fe in the hour or so we had there. It would do if there was no other way.” He wouldn’t have called it ‘cheap’ exactly, but it fell far short of his own expectations. “But if you want to go ahead with it—now—I’ll get you a better one. Only …” he paused, thinking. “I don’t think that gets us anywhere. If anything, it’s worse.”

Lillian nodded in agreement. “What I said about having nothing to wear? I was joking, naturally. If it had been … well, if things had gone the way you feared …” _If I_ had _been dying …_ “Of course that’s ridiculous, it wouldn’t have mattered what I was wearing, only that I was able to say, “I will” in my right mind, and mean it.” She sipped at her tea while gathering her thoughts. “But _now_? It’s just impossible, Jed. I have no dress, there’s been no announcement, no preparations have been made, and it would look like—” _A sudden wedding? I’m_ not _at death’s door now, and there’s only one thing people will think._

“Yeah. It would look like we _had_ to.” He shook his head. “So that’s out. I was going to say that we could marry and you could stay here until we get a place—well, until we’re not wanted anymore. The place is already there. Or my second option was, we could get married and you could come with us back to the ranch—but we can’t stay there permanently as long as there’s folks in the Front Range area who might turn us in. You’d be there at the C Bar W, maybe with Paula, but _we’d_ have to go …”

That lady, hearing her name, came in quietly from the kitchen, bearing a pot of tea. “Please don’t think I was eavesdropping, Kid, Lillie. I wasn’t. But I _did_ hear you just now, Kid, saying that if we brought Lillian back to the ranch, perhaps I might remain there with her. I’m not …”

“Never mind that, Paula,” Lillian said decisively. “That solution, if anything, is even worse. Jed and I marry suddenly, and then I leave with you? People here will conclude that not only were we … intemperate, but that I am with child.” _Admittedly I wouldn’t be here, but I dread having people I know and love think that of me, and of Jed._

“So we have to fold that hand, too.” Kid accepted Paula filling up his cup after she had poured one for Lillie and for herself as well. “I guess we’re back where we started. There’s nothing else we _can_ do but what we’re doin’ already … unless we were to get married and I stayed here. Then nobody would be thinking that I up and took off and left you in a predicament.” A sinking feeling came over him. That was the one thing that he had put out of his mind for the several months of their betrothal—that one day unforeseen circumstances would force him to choose between his wife and his partner.

“Absolutely not! If you think for one minute, Jedidiah Curry, that I will let you and your partner be split up on _my_ account—” Lillian couldn’t think of any way to finish that sentence, so she started another. “Well, you’d best think again. I won’t do it, that’s all. I’d stay here an old maid first.”

“Oh, Lillie!” Paula, quite unlike her usual self, sprang up from the hassock where she had taken a seat and embraced her friend with tears in her eyes.

Lillian returned the embrace warmly. “Don’t worry yourself, Paula—I wouldn’t do that for anything. The boys are family, and all four of us are family.”

Once the two women had recovered their composure, Kid sighed. “That still leaves us right where we are. There’s nothing else to do. But I don’t want folks thinking I keep turning up and then taking off again, and leaving you here alone. That’s not right, either.” He got up, suddenly restless, and paced to the parlor window. Finn, the crossbred sheepdog, hastily moved himself out of the way of the man’s boots and settled himself closer to the hearth. “What do we tell people here?”

Paula knitted a few more stitches, pondering. “Kid, tell them the truth.”

He turned toward her, shocked. “ _What_?!”

“No, not about the amnesty or your names. But it’s true that you can’t marry Lillian yet because you haven’t yet made a home for her.”

“But your ranch—”

“The ranch can’t be a home for Lillian until it’s a home for _you_. And it’s not. That’s what we’re working for—the time when you and Heyes can be at home there, or anywhere you like.”

“’Cept we’re _not_ working,” grumbled Kid as he came back and sat down. “We’re just waiting for Governor Hoyt to get around to doing what he promised us.”

“We _are_ working toward that, Kid, all four of us, with Richard’s help. But we can tell people that you are working and saving to have land and a home for the two of you. That’s no lie.”

Lillian nodded, agreeing. “That’s right, Jed. I can say that, if anyone wonders. But after what you’ve done here this winter, I don’t think people will say anything. They all know what sort of men you are—they’ve seen it with their own eyes.”

“All right. That’s what we’ll do. And it’s a month or so yet before the passes open so we can leave town. But I will promise you, Lillie—this is the last time I leave Telluride without you. You may have to wait a while before I come back, but the next time I come back, it will be to bring you home. You have my word, and Paula’s here to witness it.”

Lillian wordlessly offered him her hand, and they shook on their agreement like gentlemen before he gathered her into his arms and they kissed like lovers.

**The Irish Rose, Friday, March 10th**

Kid opened the back door of the Irish Rose and came in with an impressive armload of chopped kindling. That should keep the big iron stove in fuel that evening and the next day as well. He laid the kindling wood into the waiting basket before allowing himself to get warm and dried off a little in front of that stove. A recent rain had melted most of the snow down in town, though the higher slopes of the nearby mountains were still blanketed in white.

Lillian was sitting at the big worktable sorting a heap of dried pinto beans for the ever-present bean pot that was kept hot every day on the back burner. Her sensitive fingers deftly sorted out any broken beans or small stones without her needing to look. From time to time, she would scoop up the rejected beans and push them into a basket, while moving the good ones into the enamel pot to be washed and rinsed.

Kid watched her idly for a few minutes as she did this particular task; looking around the kitchen, he recalled a question he had meant to ask earlier. “Say, Lillie,” he began, “I was wondering, though I suppose it’s not my business … whatever became of Emily Sutton?” He had realized some time earlier that he had not seen the saucy young woman who had been employed at the Rose since they had arrived in town over two months earlier. Then it occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn’t have asked—that she might have been one of the ones who didn’t survive the influenza outbreak.

Lillian stopped sorting beans, and looked up at the Kid with a sigh. “I wish I knew, J—” she said, just in time stopping herself from calling him ‘Jed’. “I just don’t know.”

Louise came into the kitchen through the swinging doors from the dining room. “She took up with a no-good gambler and run off, that’s what,” the dark-haired woman said abruptly. Then she saw the look of surprise in Kid’s eyes, and hastily went on. “Oh, I don’t mean that like it sounds,” she explained, embarrassed. “I know you boys, you and Joshua, play poker in the hotel and all that, but it’s different. That fellow was just a no-account gambler, is all. Never did a lick of work that I could see, and started making up to Emily and talked her into giving up a good job and going off with him who-knows-where.”

“I’m real sorry to hear that,” Kid said. “That’s too bad.”

“It is,” Lillian agreed. “I did my best to convince her not to go away with him—we all did. But she had her mind all made up to it, thinking that he’d set her up with fine things and she wouldn’t have to earn her own bread and butter peeling potatoes or washing pots and pans. The last I heard of her was from a farmer in Placerville who I get tomatoes, corn, and squashes from.” At 8,750 feet above sea level, Telluride’s growing season wasn’t long enough or hot enough to grow the long-season warm-weather vegetables that were so popular. She finished sorting the last of the heap of dried beans, and got up to put them in the big enamel stewpot to soak overnight. “She’s not a bad girl, but…”

“… but she hasn’t a lick of sense,” Louise added. She was about to continue in that vein, when they heard a heavy tread on the back steps that everyone knew was ‘Uncle’ Henry Watson.

The door opened, and the old man came in, looking agitated. “Lillie, have you got Finn here? I’m hoping I can borrow him.”

“Sure, he’s here, snoozing in the office. Whatever is the matter, Henry? What do you need him for?”

“Well, see, I was driving the team back to town and was passing through the valley between here and Ridgway. Anyway, there was a lady in desperate trouble about a mile or so east of that road fork. They’re not from around here, just passing through and stopped for a while in that meadow to rest the horse and let the kids play. She’s got a little girl about four, and two boys. Turns out the younger boy got curious and wandered off into one o’ them disused mines …”

“Oh, my Lord,” Lillie exclaimed.

Henry went on. “And his brother went in there to find him, and now neither one of ’em has come out of there. I told her to stay put and keep on calling down there to them, and I’d see if I could find some help. I was thinking if I could send Finn down there, he could sniff ’em out, and they could follow him back out, see.” He turned to Kid Curry, who was already putting his shearling coat on. “And I’m powerful glad to see you, Thaddeus … far as I know, nobody’s been in that mine in a dozen years— exceptin’ you. Yep, it’s the same mine you got lost in last year.”

_I had a feeling he was gonna say that,_ Kid thought to himself. _Only I wasn’t lost._ He kept that to himself, however, remembering that Henry didn’t know the whole story of why he had been inside that mine in the first place.

Lillian had already gone into the café office, and called her crossbred sheepdog out from the warm spot under her desk. She brought Finn out into the kitchen, and fastened his braided leather lead to his sturdy collar. “Come here, boy … Here he is,” she said, “but—I don’t know if he’s much good for that kind of thing. He’s a sheepdog, you know, not a tracking hound. And I’ve never tried sending him to find anything or bring back anything, the way you’d send a collie to “come by”, to bring in the sheep. That’s why they sold him to me. He wasn’t much use at herding sheep, and the man who sold him figured to cut his losses. He’s a fine loyal dog, and he’ll try. And he likes you. But he may not understand what you want of him.”

The bells on the front door jingled, and Molly Quinn went to see who it was, as the Rose wasn’t yet open for the dinner hour. When she came back, Paula Wellington was with her, surprised to see the others looking upset and anxious. “What’s happened?”

The Kid turned to her. “Paula! Am I glad to see you! Do you know where Joshua is?”

“Why, yes, of course. He’s at the Bancrofts’ with Paul.”

“I know you just got here …” Curry explained the situation to her in a few words. “But could you go and tell him what’s going on, and tell him to come meet us at the mine? He’ll know which one it is. I was in there all right, but I wasn’t in any state to remember much. He’s the only one who’s been in there and paying attention, if you know what I mean.”

Paula understood at once, and left in purposeful haste to find Heyes and give him the information. Kid left a few minutes later with Henry Watson, leading Finn to Henry’s wagon.

That left the four women alone once more in the kitchen of the Irish Rose—Lillian, Susanne, Louise, and Molly. “What do we do now?”

Susanne’s eyes met her partner’s. “Make a lot of hot coffee,” she said firmly. “And pray.”

Paula returned a moment or two after that, and silently joined them in praying for the two lost boys in the old mine. It was already after three o’clock in the afternoon, and sunset was less than three hours away. There wasn’t much time—Heyes and the Kid would have to find them soon before the night-time cold set in.

Two hours passed. The Irish Rose opened for the supper hour at 5:30, on schedule, but there was still no word from Heyes or Kid, or “Uncle” Henry. Lillian was at the stove, while Susanne and Paula covered the dining room. Louise and Molly were plating the orders of food and making sure the right items went with the right orders. It was all moving like clockwork, but it was clear that all of them were uneasy and anxious, and not at the top of their form.

_It’s going to get dark before long,_ thought Paula, noticing the changing light through the windows as sunset approached. _Lord, help them find those kids._

Just as the sky was turning red-gold and the shadow of the massive Ajax Peak fell over the center of town, the sound of boots on the back steps of the Rose startled Lillian so that she spilled a ladle of gravy onto her skirt. Before she could say anything, her betrothed had pushed open the back door, his face weary but triumphant.

“We got them out,” he said, grinning. “It took some doing, but they’re both out and safe. Henry’s got Finn, and Joshua’s taken our horses. He’ll be here shortly. The mother followed Henry into town to Doc Hoogendyk’s place.”

Lillian nodded as she ladled out gravy onto the plates that Molly was waiting to carry out to the dining room. Paula came through the swinging doors then, recognizing Kid’s voice. “Thank heaven,” she exclaimed as the doors closed. “Everything’s all right, then? What happened?”

“They’re Swedish folks, or Norwegian, I guess. The young one, Nils, is about seven or thereabouts. But once he got inside, he got so scared that he just kind of froze up— you know, the way deer do sometimes. He couldn’t holler out, or answer back, or anything. When he didn’t come back, his older brother Karl went in after him, but he slipped and fell trying to bring his kid brother out.”

“Oh, dear, that’s bad.” Lillian was mopping up the spilled gravy as Kid spoke. “What did you do? How did you find them?”

He shook his head, rueful. “You were right about Finn,” he said. “He wasn’t about to go in there on his own, even when we threw a stick in there for him to chase.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lillie started to laugh. “Oh, goodness, I could have told you that. He doesn’t fetch things—he just doesn’t, not even a ball. He simply looks at you as if to say, ‘you threw it over there, _you_ go get it’.”

Kid chuckled. “That’s just about right!”

At that point, Susanne looked in briefly through the kitchen door, her expression hopeful. “Are they safe?”

“Yep, safe and sound,” he answered, and Susanne smiled with relief and returned to waiting tables. Kid went on. “So we went in there, with a long rope tied to Henry’s wagon, to find them, and I got Finn to come in with us. Thought maybe the kids would feel better seeing a nice dog, and not just the two of us fellows they didn’t know from Adam. That might’ve scared them even more.”

“And it worked,” added Heyes’s voice, coming into the kitchen from the dining room. He embraced Paula with a brief kiss and continued the story. “Finn was wagging his tail and licking their faces, and it helped a lot. The younger one took hold of his collar with one hand, and the rope with the other hand, and followed us back up. The older boy followed behind him. We think he might have broken his wrist or his arm, but there wasn’t enough light by then to tell.” He accepted the cup of steaming coffee Lillian offered him. “But with his arm hurt, he couldn’t hold onto his kid brother and climb out of there as well, so they were in a real fix. They weren’t in any danger as long as they stayed put where they were, but they couldn’t get out.”

“Why didn’t he call out? It must have terrified their mother when she couldn’t hear them.”

Kid shrugged. “I don’t know—we didn’t ask too many questions. I don’t think they know much English. But I’ll bet he was afraid their ma would try to come down after them. And it’s not safe to just walk around in there, that’s for sure.”

“Whatever made the young one, Nils, go down there at all? I’ve seen that mine—it’s ominous just to look at.”

“Just wanted to explore, I guess. After we got them out and their ma talked to them, she told us that he went into there because he knows some old stories about finding treasure in a cave, and he wanted to see if there was really treasure down there.”

As the crisis had passed, Heyes and Kid soon left the café and returned to the hotel to wash up and change into clean clothes before returning for supper. “You all right, Heyes?” his cousin asked, with a puzzled expression. “You’re awful quiet all of a sudden.”

“What? Oh, nothing.”

“Uh-huh. What is it this time?” _I know that look, and it ain’t ‘nothing’._

“Like I said, nothing’s wrong. Just those kids … well, kind of reminded me. That could’ve been us, twenty years back or so.” That wasn’t what was on his mind, but saying that was easier than explaining what the trouble really was.

Kid considered that. “S’pose so,” he remarked. “They’re further apart than we are, though, four or five years between ’em, ’stead of just two.”

*** *** ***

“I have known Kid all my life,” Heyes began, sitting with his betrothed in the lobby of the Auburn Hotel, where she had come to bid him a good night. “I know how he is when he’s scared to do something, but he’s determined to do it anyway. This … this wasn’t like that.”

Paula listened. She had a feeling that she knew what was bothering Heyes, but she waited for him to articulate what he meant. “What did he do?”

“He just walked into that mine shaft like it was nothing. As though the mine cave-in last year in Central City[1] never happened.” _As if there were no bad memories._ “As far as I know, Kid has never quit a job in his life. But he walked off that one. Said he wouldn’t go down there again for anything they could give us.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully, rotating the sock in her hands and starting to knit on the next needle. “Perhaps knowing those boys were in trouble made the difference.”

“That could be,” Heyes conceded, but that explanation didn’t suffice as far as he was concerned. _That’s not how it looked to me, but I can’t explain it. He wasn’t afraid of that, and I don’t know why not._

**Richard Bancroft’s office, Monday, March 13th**

Richard Bancroft looked over at the desk where his temporary law clerk was working. Over the two months Paul Wellington had been with him, Richard had come to appreciate the younger man’s intelligence and skills a great deal. The two men had become quite friendly. The lawyer wondered if he could venture, now, to ask some of the questions which had been in the back of his mind. “Paul? Why don’t we take a break? Hannah said she’d leave us some cold meat and bread for sandwiches. She’s out today, helping a neighbor who’s expecting family to come for Easter. Helga has a baby to look after and is struggling with the preparations.”

“Certainly.” Wellington blotted the document he had been working on, carefully dried the nib of his pen, and closed the standish. “Speaking of Easter, I really must be thinking of getting back to the ranch, now that the roads are clearing up. If we leave by Monday the 27th, we can be in Denver in time for Maundy Thursday services, stay there over Easter, then head on back to Estes Park. At least that’s what I plan to do. I presume my sister and Heyes and Kid will accompany me. I know Paula would like to be in Denver to attend Easter services.” He rose to accompany Richard to the kitchen. “I’ll make the tea and coffee while you see about those sandwiches.”

“I think you can assume they’ll go at least as far as Denver with you. I’ve given Miss Wellington a letter for her to deliver by hand, addressed to Judge Hanley and Counsellor Brubaker, with whom Heyes and Jed became acquainted in Junction City, New Mexico. It would be better for her to deliver it, and safer for the two of them, so she can ascertain whether the judge and Brubaker are willing to work with them as I have asked in the letter. Denver’s not exactly on the way, but close enough.”

Settling down in Richard’s office with the plate of sandwiches, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee, and a jug of milk, the two men ate quietly. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…,” Bancroft began. He hesitated, then began again. “You’re good at all of this work that involves book-learning and good penmanship. You would almost be out of place running a horse ranch, it seems to me.” Upon receiving a surprised look, he continued, “Oh, I know what your reasons were, but … what were you originally planning to do after getting your degree at Oxford? Surely not to raise horses?”

“Horses were always in the plan, as my father was very interested in his breeding operation at the Scottish property. But you are right that I was intending something quite other. It’s not important now, especially since I completed only two years of the three-year degree, and of course was also unable to remain the extra year for the Master of Arts degree.” Wellington smiled. “I did obtain a degree in Animal Husbandry from Colorado Agricultural College, but that’s in rather a different field of study.”

Richard preserved an encouraging silence. After a long pause, Wellington continued. “My father had always wished to enter the ministry in the Church of England. Circumstances made it impossible for him to do so, but he collected a library of quite respectable size on ecclesiastical history and Anglican, Roman Catholic, and Reformed theology—all seven volumes of Richard Hooker’s works, for instance. I brought the books with me to America, and I rather inherited his interests, you might say, as well as the books.”

“You were thinking of being ordained?”

“I was, yes. However, God had other plans. I had to get Paula away from our aunt and her marriage ideas. And the funds were available for us to emigrate if we were willing to start the horse ranch. So—here we are in Colorado, raising Arabians, Morgans, and Friesians, and doing a thriving business with them. And Paula has found a man to suit her at last—the right man, even if he is a reformed bank and train robber.” Taking note of the expression on the lawyer’s face, Paul added, “Why? Had you a suggestion for me?”

“I did have one or two thoughts. Colorado, especially in the small towns and rural areas away from Denver, is still short of Christian clergymen. You yourself said there’s no permanent church of any kind near where you live now. You might talk to the Episcopal bishop for this area—I don’t know who that would be, but …”

“Bishop Spalding. He’s the missionary bishop, responsible for Colorado as well as parts of Wyoming and Arizona, I believe. There’s no proper diocesan organization here yet. I’ve met him once, at St. John’s in Denver, which he made a cathedral three years ago.”

“You could ask him how difficult it might be to pursue ordination, given that you’ve completed two-thirds of your original degree, and you’ve studied your father’s books. I suspect he’d be very interested in talking to you.”

There was a long pause. Finally the Englishman replied, slowly, “I truly never thought of that. I suppose you may be right. It’s certainly worth investigating. Thank you, Richard.”

“My pleasure.”

After a pause, Paul continued, “Speaking of Anglican church matters, I’ve been meaning to ask if you are related to Richard Bancroft, the Archbishop of Canterbury who supervised the translation of the Authorised Version of the Bible in 1611.”

Richard’s brows rose. “He had the same name?”

“Exactly the same. If you look at the translators’ preface in the front of your Bible, I think it mentions that. I take it that means you’re _not_ related.”

“I was never told one way or the other. I can look through my family papers and see what I can discover, but I suspect there is no relation. Neither Richard nor Bancroft are uncommon names.”

**Auburn Hotel, Sunday, March 19th, 1882**

Paula Wellington noticed that her twin had become, if it were possible, more reserved than before. In spite of Heyes’s advice not to press matters, she was consumed with curiosity, and more than a little worried. She took the opportunity on the following Sunday, after church, to excuse herself to Heyes for a couple of hours and pay a visit to Paul in the private parlor he had hired along with his hotel room.

“May I come in?”

He looked up, seeing his sister framed in the doorway. “Of course.” He motioned her to a seat by the fire. “You usually spend Sunday afternoons with Heyes. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

“No, nothing. I just thought I should like to talk to you. You and I are here in the same town, and we don’t need to behave as if we are four hundred miles away from one another, after all. I’ve been busy, helping to look after Lillian, and working at the Rose, but I’ve missed you. Yes, I missed my own brother!”

Having not yet made tea for himself since returning to the parlor after the noon meal in the hotel dining room, and not knowing exactly what to say in reply to this, Paul busied himself with bringing the kettle to a boil on the fire, and spooning fresh tea into a clean pot. The milk jug had already been brought upstairs and was standing ready on the tea tray. He did not speak until he had made the tea and set it aside to steep.

“We’ll have to plan to leave for Denver by March 27th, if you wanted to be there in time for the Maundy Thursday services on April 6th,” he reminded her. He sighed. “That is, unless Heyes has made other plans for you.”

“He hasn’t. He knows we want to spend Easter in Denver. He figured we’d have to leave the 27th or 28th.” She looked at him, concerned. “You sound as if you fear he is trying to keep me away from my family.”

“Oh, no. I know he’s not doing anything of the kind on purpose. It just seems to have worked out that way. And naturally, when you marry, you will be spending most of your time with him—even though I hope the two of you will settle down at the ranch. But that’s a long way in the future, I suppose.”

“Everything depends on Governor Hoyt. Mr. Bancroft says that he hopes that this letter which I am to take to Judge Hanley in Junction City will get matters moving, but it’s still very uncertain.” She stirred the tea in the pot with a spoon and began to pour out for both of them. “We should talk about you instead. I think something must be troubling you. You’ve been so quiet since starting work for Mr. Bancroft.”

“Nothing’s troubling me, but I have been giving some thought to an entirely new idea which Bancroft introduced into a conversation the other day.” Paul sipped his tea, found it excellent, and topped up the cup again from the pot. 

His sister poured hot water from the simmering kettle into the pot to allow the remaining tea to steep further, and waited. She might be made the recipient of a confidence if she were patient, but it was not certain. As he did not continue immediately, she excused herself, saying she would have some toast brought up, and quietly left the room.

When she returned, Paul was sipping his second cup of tea and staring into the fire. “They’ll be up with the toast in a few minutes.”

“Thank you. I’ve been thinking …”

She spoke at the same moment. “You don’t have to tell me …”

He chuckled, as they both stopped and waited for the other to continue. “No, I should like to tell you, but absolutely nothing is decided, or in any way certain. So—I’m going to ask you to promise to say nothing to Heyes, or Curry. You may tell Miss O’More if you wish, but with the same conditions. I particularly do not wish to discuss this matter with Heyes, and if you tell either of them, he might get the idea that it’s a matter for open conversation. Which, at present, it is not.”

“Oh, I quite understand. I fear he does have a tendency to manage things. I promise I’ll say nothing to Heyes or Kid until you tell me I may.” A knock fell on the door, and she rose to open it, returning with a platter holding toast, butter, and another jug of milk.

He was looking at her quizzically as the door closed behind the girl from the dining room. “Still certain he’s the right man? Now that you know him a good deal better?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I know a lot more about his faults now, but that hasn’t made me change my mind.”

Accepting a plate of hot buttered toast and an offer to warm up his tea again, Paul took a deep breath. “Bancroft asked what I had planned to do with my life after taking my degree from Oxford. I put him off, because it’s really rather a moot point now, but he drew me out, somehow. I expect he’s very successful in the courtroom.” He raised his hand to silence her as she started to speak. “No, don’t say it. I don’t regret leaving England without completing my studies. I needed to get you out of the country, and I’ve enjoyed … we’ve all enjoyed making the horse ranch into a going concern. Presumably that’s how the Lord intended matters to work out, even though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“I wasn’t going to argue. I agree that the Lord brought us to Colorado and has been working things out for us. But did you tell him? Mr. Bancroft?”

“Yes. Well, I said that I had hoped to do what our father was unable to accomplish, to seek holy orders in the Church of England. That’s out of the question now, of course. I couldn’t go back over there to stay, even though …” He broke off, and was silent for a considerable length of time.

“You said he came up with an entirely new idea?” she prompted.

“Yes. He suggested I should talk to Bishop Spalding. They’re desperately short of Episcopal priests in Colorado, especially in the less settled areas, of course, and Bancroft pointed out that I had completed most of my degree and had read the majority of the books in our father’s theological library—I had mentioned that to him earlier. He was of the opinion that Bishop Spalding would be very interested in talking to me about ordination. Here. In Colorado. In Estes Park, where we haven’t a church of any kind, even though the Methodist Episcopal circuit rider comes when he is able. Bancroft thought that it might turn out to be a simple matter of passing an oral examination. He urged me to investigate the matter, and I plan to do so when we are in Denver for Easter.” He finished his tea in one long gulp, betraying more agitation than was apparent in his tone.

After a moment’s surprised silence, Paula put down her cup, stepped forward, and put her arms around her brother’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful news! I never thought you would be able to follow that up over here, since the American Episcopal Church is different to the Church of England in a number of ways. And of course I shan’t say anything to Heyes or Kid. You will tell them when you’re ready. I can see that it’s going to take some time even to find out what has to be done next. If there’s anything I can do, though, I hope you’ll let me know.”

“Of course.” He returned her hug briefly. “Thank you for listening.”

**Tuesday, March 21st**

For the first day of spring, the Irish Rose was getting a little sprucing up. That afternoon between the lunch and supper hours, Molly and Louise were changing out the dark green placemats on the tables for a paler sage green, while Lillian and Susanne took the ivory silk chrysanthemums and evergreen eucalyptus out of the vases and replaced them with cheerful daisies and periwinkles. 

Typically for springtime in Colorado, however, it was actually snowing. Once the dining room had been tidied, Lillian headed back into the kitchen to start preparations for the evening meal. Earlier, Kid had been helping Henry Watson unload a cord of wood into the woodshed behind the café, but now he was standing near the back door, looking out at the falling snow. _He’s been awfully quiet today, she thought to herself. Perhaps because they’re leaving soon for Denver, back to the world where they must always be on their guard_. Two weeks earlier, they had had a small celebration at the Bancrofts’ home for Kid’s thirtieth birthday. The previous Saturday had been the square dance and social at the schoolhouse for St. Patrick’s Day, to which she had worn the the green silk dress she had bought on a whim that fall before last, the one that she had foolishly laid money out on, hoping against hope that just perhaps Jed might come back one day and would see her in it. But all good things had to come to an end, and this time of togetherness, as a whole family, was no exception. 

She poured a fresh cup of coffee in one of the green-striped ivory stoneware cups, added cream and sugar, and brought it to the pensive young man gazing out at the snow. “Thanks,” he said with a smile, but clearly his mind was elsewhere.

“Is everything all right?” She spoke quietly as she came to stand beside him. “You seem upset.”

He turned then to look at her. “No, I’m all right, Lil. Just thinking, that’s all.” He took a sip of the steaming brew, made from beans just roasted the week before. “A year ago today, right about now, we were on the Virginia Canyon road, headed for Idaho Springs. We could see the lights just starting to come on.”

“Oh, dear Lord …” Lillian exclaimed softly, her hand instinctively moving to rest on his left forearm as she cast a quick glance at the calendar on the wall of the kitchen. “It certainly was. I’m sorry, Jed, I wasn’t even thinking of it. Forgive me.” _And I was so far away, and I couldn’t help you … I was so afraid._

He smiled and gripped her hand with his free one. “Never you mind, Lil—there’s nothing to apologize for. It was just coming here into the kitchen, and seeing the date on the wall, that brought it all back. I remember Doc MacKenzie shining a light in my eyes that night with a mirror and asking me if I knew what day it was. I’d pretty near knocked myself out.” _I’m not telling her the bad parts: Heyes talkin’ me down the hillside, crawling on my hands and knees in the dark. Or him trying to get me back up on Joe … less said about that the better._ “I told him if it was still today, it was the twenty-first of March.”

They stood there together for a time, looking out at the early-spring snow, each lost in thought. _Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have known how much she loves me._ “Now, there’s nothing to worry about any more,” he added. “If anybody would’ve told me a year later I’d be dancing with you for St. Patrick’s Day, I’m not sure I would’ve believed it. But we did it, didn’t we?”

She nodded and sighed a little, leaning against him. “We surely did.”

*** *** ***

Most of the necessary preparations had been made for their departure. That night, in their hotel room, Kid Curry turned to his cousin with an air of having made a decision. “Heyes?”

Hannibal Heyes looked up from the newspaper he had been perusing. “Hmm? What’s up, Kid?”

“Tomorrow I’m not going to be around. I got a couple things I have to see about before we leave, but it’s not here in town. I’ll be heading out early. I’ll stop by the Rose and have a cup of coffee with Lillie on the way.”

“And you don’t want her to know about it.”

“That’s about right. I’ll tell her I’ve got some business to take care of.” He sat down in a straight-backed chair to pull off his boots.

Heyes eyed him, intrigued. “This have anything to do with those wires you been sending the last few days?”

Not for nothing was Heyes the most successful gang leader in Wyoming, the younger man reflected. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’re not telling me, either.”

Kid shook his head, firmly. “No, I ain’t. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad … but I don’t want Lillie getting her hopes up, and then it turns out I’m wrong. So, will you cover for me?”

“Only if you tell me the whole story when you get back. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kid reached to blow out the lamp on the nightstand.

The next day, after an early breakfast of pancakes, ham, and coffee with Lillian in the café kitchen, Kid headed due west out of the town in the direction of Placerville. Three and a half miles west of Telluride, he turned south. _Twenty-three miles_ , he thought to himself after glancing at his watch. _Should put me there about eleven or so. Hope the information I got is right._

The road south passed through a small town called Ames. This part of the road was surrounded on all sides by conifer forests with impressive mountain peaks in the distance: Mt. Wilson, Sunshine Peak, Engineer Mountain. He knew this road, as they had passed this way to reach Telluride. 

The road was wet and muddy from the recent snow, but it was passable. About a quarter to eleven, he rode into the town of Rico. It took him only a few minutes to locate the marshal’s office.

The middle-aged woman who owned the Silver Dollar saloon frowned at the Kid’s question. “How come you’re looking for her? What do you want with her? You some of her kinfolks?” She regarded him with misgiving.

“No, ma’am,” said Kid quietly. “I’m not. I’d just like to talk to her a few minutes, if I may. I’ve got a message to pass on.”

Before long, a young woman with curly dark hair emerged from the back room and approached his table. Her eyes grew wide with astonishment as she recognized him. “Mr … Mr. _Jones_?” Nervously, she wiped her hands on her apron.

“That’s right, Miss Sutton. Here you are.” He had risen when she came to the table, and he pulled out a chair for her.

“How did you find me?” She shook her head, confused. “Miss Lillie sent you?”

“No, she didn’t. She doesn’t know I’m here. I haven’t told her. I figured I better talk to you first.” She seemed well enough from all appearances. “Are you all right?”

Emily Sutton sighed heavily. “Yes, I’m all right. Only I’ve made such a mess of everything.”

“Well, you’re not exactly alone in that,” Kid replied gently. “I made some big messes myself at your age.” _Starting with a bank robbery in Garden City, Kansas._ “Pretty sure you haven’t made as much of one as I did. Seems to me, part of being almost seventeen is doing things you probably shouldn’t have.” A waitress came to the table with the coffee and sandwiches he had ordered for Miss Sutton and himself. “And you don’t have to tell me about it—it’s none of my business. But your ma and your boss are both mighty worried about you.”

“I know my ma must be, but I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.”

She put sugar in her cup of coffee and drank. “It was silly and stupid to do what I did. Miss Lillie was so kind to give me my job back, even though it was in the kitchen instead of the dining room. But it was so dull! Mr. Jones, you can’t imagine how dreary it is, the same thing at the same time, day after day after day. Soak the beans, chop the onions, grind the coffee, sweep the ashes out … every day, over and over. Being out front isn’t like that— every day is different, and there are always people coming in to greet and talk to, and it’s fun! It’s like a game to remember which person ordered what, and to know what their favorite things are—and when you remember their names and what they like, they’re happy. But the kitchen work is horrid and dull, and … so, when Charles …” She looked down at her hands and blushed. “That is, a gentleman named Charles Bennett came into town.”

Kid said nothing, but nodded slowly and waited.

“He’s such a fine-looking man, and he started paying attention to me,” she went on. “He was a gambler—I knew that. But he told me all kinds of interesting things he’d done, and then, late October, he said he had to be moving on before he got snowed in, and he asked if I’d come along with him. It was a stupid thing to do, I know— but I did it. He was charming, and handsome, and it was fun to be with him. It wasn’t dull at all![2]”

Kid leaned forward to be sure she heard him, but no one else. “Did he take advantage of you?”

“No, Mr. Jones. He didn’t. He never treated me with impropriety. We had travelled to Ophir, and then we were headed down to Durango, and he was talking about getting married … but when he found out I wasn’t seventeen yet, he dropped the whole idea like a hot iron. He said he wasn’t out to rob any cradles, and I was just a kid. By the time all that came about, we were in Dolores. He went on his way to Durango, but he made sure I had a place to stay in a respectable boarding house, and gave me enough money for a stagecoach ticket back home to Telluride.”

“And he left you there.”

Emily Sutton nodded, and looked down. “But I couldn’t go home, could I? I had left town with an older man I wasn’t married to, and was away for almost a week. I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I decided I had better just go home and make the best of it, but I only had enough money to get here, to Rico. And the passes got snowed in, so I couldn’t get to Telluride if I’d tried. Mrs. Everly here hired me on to wait tables and work in the kitchen. So I’m a kitchen drudge here too.”

“Well, I’m not here to tell you what to do, or to drag you back home,” Kid explained thoughtfully. “But Miss O’More is very worried about you. I don’t know your folks, but I’m sure they are too. They’d like to know you’re all right.”

Emily sighed again, abashed. “I know they would. But … I can’t figure out how to tell them what happened, or what I did, or anything. And I just kept thinking, I’ll write that letter tomorrow.” She looked up then, hope in her expression. “Would … I mean, do you think that Miss Lillie would give me my job again?”

He held up a hand to forestall her question. “I couldn’t say, Emily. It’s not my decision to make.” Kid had thought all morning about what he would tell her if in fact he found her. “But I can tell you she would be very happy to know that you’re safe and you’re all right. It would put her mind at ease. The job question is something you’ll have to take up with her.”

*** *** ***

“So that’s what you were telegraphing about.” Heyes shook his head. “Trying to find some town in the vicinity where there was a girl who turned up out of nowhere last fall.”

“That’s about it,” Kid explained. “Louise had said Emily ran off with a gambler, and nobody knew what happened to her. It worried Lillie, so I tried to find out what I could.”

Heyes pondered this. “Why didn’t you bring her back?”

“How? Riding behind on my horse?” Kid shook his head. “She’s pretty young, and she did something foolish— but she’s not a child. Besides, however bad it looks, doing that would make it look worse. No. Whether she stays in Rico, or she comes back, it’s up to her.”

“Suppose you’re right on that,” Heyes agreed. “Come on, they’ll be waiting for us.”

After dinner, and after the café closed for the evening, Lillian and Paula were tidying up the kitchen and getting things prepared for the next morning. The two men had shovelled out the ashes from the stove and were now bringing in wood for the next day’s work.

“How was your trip, Jed?” Lillian asked once the four of them were alone. “Where did you have to go?”

“Down to Rico,” he said. “It turned out better than I expected it would. And now I can tell you what it was about. I found Emily Sutton.”

“Emily?!” Lillie exclaimed, astonished. “Is she all right? How did you find her?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” he said. “But yes, she’s all right, and she’s been in Rico since a week or so after she left.” Kid refilled his own cup of coffee and related the story that Emily had told him.

“Thank the Lord,” Lillian said when Kid had finished. “Is she going to come back?”

“I don’t know. I told her it would have to be her own decision, and she’d have to write or talk to you about working here. But I made sure she has enough money for a stagecoach ticket if she decides to come back.”

“Thank you— thank you for finding out. I suppose I should have done so myself.”

**Monday, March 27th**

Having said good-bye to Lillian privately in the big kitchen of the Irish Rose, Kid Curry rejoined Miss Wellington, Heyes, and the Bancrofts in the dining room, where they had met for a farewell breakfast. “I’m as ready to leave as I’ll ever be. We’d better get going.”

“Miss Wellington, you have that letter to Judge Hanley?” The lawyer assisted his wife from her chair while Heyes did the same for Paula, and the entire party went out to the street where the Bancrofts’ buggy, harnessed to the fine-looking Friesian mare Richard had purchased from Wellington, was waiting, together with the horses.

“Yes, I have it safe. I don’t know how soon we can get to Junction City. It’ll be after Easter. Paul and I hope to attend Maundy Thursday and Easter services at St. John’s in Denver.” She glanced questioningly aside at Heyes.

“Yeah, that’s right. We’ll put up at a hotel in Denver for a week or so. I want to let our friend Doc MacKenzie, in Idaho Springs, know we’re there. Maybe he can make the time to come down and see us. I know he’ll want to check on Kid’s leg.”

Lillian stood on the porch of the Rose, watching, as her betrothed and his party moved away down the street, taking the main road to the west and the intersection with the highway to Placerville.

* * *

[1] See “The Richest Square Mile on Earth”, by Ida Arminda Moss, available on Archive of Our Own at this link: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425868/chapters/46231369>

[2] The inability to tolerate boredom, impulsive decision-making, and the craving for excitement and stimulation are all hallmarks of teenagers and adults with the condition we now call ADHD.


End file.
